Love Is Looking For You
by angellwings
Summary: [Casey/Brett] Fed up with their stagnant love lives, Matt Casey and Sylvie Brett make a deal. [post 809] [multichap] [complete]
1. A Little Gray

**A/N: **I blame **katertots** for this. See, she started DMing me about this new fic she'd started for Chicago Fire and, honestly, I'd never been interested in the Chicago shows before. BUT the more she showed me of this fic, the more I cared about her ship. Then she started showing me gif sets and well they were just as adorable visually as they were in her fic.

So, I started snooping around. I searched the ship tag on twitter, read up on them on Wikipedia, scrolled through gif sets on tumblr, and then the ultimate nail in the coffin...I decided to watch the show. I watched 801 through season 808 on Hulu in one night (including the 3 part crossover between all three Chicago shows) and very quickly got addicted.

When 809 aired, it left me with a kernel of a conversation I wanted someone to have with Casey. I wrote it and then kept going. Before long. It snowballed into THIS. (So: SPOILERS FOR THIS PAST WEEKS FALL FINALE FYI)

All because **katertots** started writing an amazing fic (filling in the blanks as we go) and wanted to share it with me. Hence why this is all her fault. Seriously, though, being new to the show she has really helped me out with this story. There are more than a few moments of dialogue and plot points that are a direct result of brainstorming with her.

So, thank you, **katertots**! You're amazing and I'm so grateful to you!

Anyway, sorry for the long note but I had to place blame before you all got started reading, lol.

Happy reading!

Angellwings

* * *

**Love Is Looking For You**

**by angellwings**

* * *

Part One: A Little Gray

* * *

"Maybe you're just jaded from some nobody's unforgotten words,

Maybe you're just faded a little gray from every time,

That you've been hurt."

-"Love is Looking For You" by Miranda Lambert

* * *

"You're a dumbass."

Casey looks up from the couch to find Stella staring at him with a bored expression.

He glances around to see if she could be talking to anyone else, but finds the apartment empty save for the two of them. "I am?"

"Gabby, again? Seriously?"

"I'm sorry, aren't you Gabby's friend?"

"Yes, and as her friend I see and love her for all her strengths _and _flaws. Like you, she's impulsive and stubborn and unable to let people go." Kidd's narrowed eyes focus on him pointedly.

"And she told you." It's a statement not a question.

She nods, stone faced. "I gave her the speech I'm about to give you."

"Where's Severide?" He asks, hoping to distract her.

"In the shower. He thought I was joining him or else he wouldn't have left me alone to corner you."

"I don't think I needed to know that," Casey says with a tilt of his head.

"You do realize that you can't be fuck buddies when she doesn't live here, right? And that also being _fuck buddies_ with your ex is detrimental to the very concept of _moving on_?" Kidd asks as she sits down on the other end of the couch and angles herself toward him.

Her body language indicates they're going to be here for a while.

"Can you stop saying fuck buddies?"

"Why? Are you back together?"

"No, we're not—"

"Are going to get back together?"

"No—"

"Then _fuck buddies_ it is."

Matt sighs and lets his head fall back on the couch. "Do we have to talk about this here and now?"

"No, we can talk about this wherever you want. Would you feel better if we were at Molly's?"

"Smartass," he mutters with a huff. Of course, he wouldn't.

She shrugs with a wry grin. "I try."

"Look, Gabby and I—we...we never really had any closure to begin with—"

"Yes, and then you spent your opportunity for it relapsing instead. Look, I get it, Casey. I do. You and Gabby were always complicated and passionate, if nothing else, and combine that with how things ended and…**.**" Her sentence trails off as her eyes widen and her head bobs emphatically. "I mean, it was bound to happen. But what matters is what the two of you do _now_. If you leave it open ended then you'll both be stuck. Don't do that to yourself. It's not fair to either of you."

He hates to admit it but what she says makes a lot of sense. So, naturally, his instinct is to scoff and let it roll right off his back — defensively. But he shoves that knee jerk reaction back down because this advice came from _Stella Kidd_. Someone who knows both him and Gabby pretty damn well, and cares about them equally. It adds a validation to it that forces him to take it seriously.

Stella must sense his moment of weakness because, after a prolonged silence, she continues. "Honestly, Casey, are you happy waiting for Gabby to come back? Is living with one foot in, one foot out satisfying _at all_?"

Damn, if that doesn't hit him right in the gut. He knows the answer the minute she asks the question. His subconscious shouts it so loud he almost startles.

"No," he croaks out. "I feel like I've been holding my breath since she left — half assing all of my personal life."

"Then close the damn door and _breathe_, man," Stella advises with a soft grin. "You saw her again and you got to say goodbye. My advice? Leave it there, in the rear view, where it belongs. For your sake and Gabby's."

He chews on that for a minute, nodding slightly. "I'll think about it."

"Thinking better end with _doing_," she says as she squeezes his shoulder. Her stern glare is back but one corner of her mouth has ticked upward to counteract her severity. "I just want you guys to be happy. You know that, right?"

A crooked smile forms on his face before he replies. "I know."

And he does know. Never questioned it. He's thought he and Gabby might be better off apart for a while now but putting that into practice is a different matter altogether.

Kidd stands from the couch with a dry chuckle and an eye roll. "Between you and Brett, it seems my single friends are all determined to be unhappy."

"Brett?" Matt asks with a furrowed brow.

"Yeah, I keep telling her to get back out there, but she's dragging her feet. I mean, I know she ended an engagement but that was _months_ ago. It's time to move on, you know?" She says with a casual lift of a shoulder.

"Yeah," he agrees absently, even though the idea of Brett dating feels unsettling. "Yeah, sure."

He sounds hesitant even to his own ears. Stella freezes and then lifts a curious brow at him. He can see the question in her eyes and he's dreading the words that might come next.

She opens her mouth to speak but, as luck would have it, Severide interrupts.

He marches into the room with a towel around his waist and impatience in his glare. "Stella—"

"Yeah, I know, I know. Keep your towel on. We're done and everything's fine. Right, Casey?" She asks, pointing a sugary smile at him.

"Right," he responds through an awkward clearing of his throat. "Completely fine."

"See? Now, come on. I owe you a shower," she says as she lightly slaps Severide's ass and rushes passed him.

Casey grimaces and looks away from his friends. He finds himself yelling his words from earlier at their retreating backs.

"I don't think I needed to know that!"

Just like he didn't need to know about Brett's love life. Nor does he need to think about why it bothers him. It shouldn't. It doesn't.

_It can't._

* * *

So Casey had a good time with Gabby. She's his ex-wife. That makes sense. I mean if her friends have a chance to reconcile, shouldn't Sylvie be happy for them?

Except, it didn't seem like reconciling. Gabby left again with no indication of when she'd be back.

Then _what_ was it? Was it just a fun night with no strings attached? Was it more than that? Did it mean he was still hung up on Gabby? And, most importantly, why the _fuck_ did she care?

Casey can do what he wants. In fact, she _told him _to go. Of course, at the time she thought he'd go and find closure. Show's what she knows.

She downs half her glass of wine and rolls her eyes at herself. This is stupid. Why is she stressing out over Casey? She has her own problems and her own _love life_ to figure out. Casey is not a part of either one of those things.

Except when she was back home and Hope asked her if she'd ever had a thing for one of the guys she'd immediately thought of Casey. (Despite being engaged at the time.)

She puts the glass down and flops back on her bed. She shouldn't even be thinking about this. She groans pathetically and wraps herself tighter in her fuzzy blanket. Matt Casey is her friend. A _close _friend. Any thoughts of him being otherwise risked ruining the good thing they already have.

And that's _nuts_.

_Insane_. Especially with her track record.

If they did try something and it went bust like every other relationship she's had then they would still have to see each other at work. That's only _if_ Casey is interested to begin with.

Not that _she's_ interested. Cause she's _not_. Nope. No way.

Okay, maybe _some _way. Just in a _small_ way. Yeah, that's it. It's small feelings. Not big. Small feelings can be buried or covered up until they eventually just..._fade away._

She hopes.

Either way, this thing with Gabby has shown her she can't just sit around pondering her feelings for Casey.

Foster and Kidd are right. It's time to get back out there. Maybe if she'd gotten out there sooner these weird feelings for Casey never would have popped up to begin with. But it's fine. _It's fine_. After a few dates it'll be like it never happened.

Now she just needs to scare up a few dates. She can do that. No problem.

No problem whatsoever.

She taps out a text to Foster and Kidd.

"_Either of you got any available guys you can send my way?"_

Foster's reply is near instant. "_Gasp. Omg. Is it happening? Are you putting yourself back on the market?"_

"_Ew, gross. I'm not a house on Love It or List It. ...but yes. For lack of a better term, I'm back on the market."_

The dots on the screen fluctuate for a few minutes before Kidd finally chimes in. Maybe it's just her imagination, but Kidd's words seem suspicious.

"_What brought this on all of a sudden?"_

She can't take too long to reply. Foster already has doubts about her feelings for Casey and if Kidd does too…

"_Nothing, really. It's just...time."_

Oh, please buy it and let it go. _Please_.

"_About time, I say. And have I got a list for you."_

She releases a breath she didn't know she was holding as Foster's text lights up her screen. They bought it. For now, at least.

Now the hard work begins. She actually has to _go_ on dates. The idea is already exhausting her, but she _needs_ to do this. It's date or keep falling for Casey, and the first option is definitely safer.

* * *

"Have you thought about speed dating?"

That's the first question Casey overhears when he walks into the common room the next morning. He turns toward the question to find Foster scrolling her phone while Brett looks at her as if she's lost her mind.

He tries to smother the sinking feeling in his gut at the image of Sylvie sitting at a table, smiling and laughing with a room full of eligible bachelors — all hanging on her every word because that's just the effect she has on men. He knows. He's seen it up close and personal.

"Speed dating?" Brett asks as she wrinkles her nose in disgust.

"Are you saying you're too good for speed dating, Sylvie Brett?" Foster asks with a teasing smirk.

He wants to answer that question for her but somehow manages to resist.

"_No_," Brett replies with an eye roll. "But do you know anyone who's actually met someone worthwhile while _speed dating?"_

Foster looks thoughtful for a brief moment and then her shoulders slump. "No. Guess not."

"Exactly," Brett says with a light laugh. "Not doing it."

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth while listening to Brett's laugh and the sight of that optimistic light in her eyes almost repairs the sinking feeling still sitting in his gut. _Almost_. He hasn't seen much of that light since she got back. He breathes through the tension and focuses on his _friend_ Sylvie Brett — not whatever version of her has been breaking into his thoughts at odd intervals. His _friend_ deserves to move on from the mistake he stupidly pushed her into to begin with. Whatever bizarre things he's feeling for her have to take a backseat to _her happiness_.

She deserves that.

He shakes it off as best he can and walks further into the room. Foster and Brett notice him and greet him. He nods in acknowledgment before pouring himself a cup of coffee and getting the hell out of there. The less he has to hear about Brett's personal life, the less he has to deal with his messy emotions.

A call comes in for an accident, and he's grateful to be able to dive in to work until Brett's tending to a male victim who's all flirtatious smirks and witty quips. It's not the first time she's been hit on at an accident scene and it won't be the last, but it irks him more than usual. She has it handled, of course, but that doesn't stop him from finding another victim she can take care of instead.

Later, when they're back at the station, he hears Foster ask about the guy.

Brett rolls her eyes. "No thanks, did you see the amount of jewelry he was wearing? I don't date guys who wear more jewelry than me. They remind me of movie mobsters or con-men. Like...like Joe Pesci."

He can't help it. He laughs. It's a loud and short blast, but still a laugh. Foster and Brett turn to him at the sound.

Foster glares but Sylvie flashes him a small secretive smile — as if she only wants him to see.

"You are definitely too good for Joe Pesci," Casey tells her with a chuckle. "I mean, if you ask me you should at _least_ aim for Robert DeNiro."

"What? No Al Pacino?" Brett asks with exaggerated surprise.

"You prefer Al Pacino?" He asks in curious amusement.

They share a glance and a smile. It lingers far too long and for a brief second he forgets anyone else is in the room.

Until Foster offers her opinion and breaks the spell.

"You're both wrong. Ray Liota is the _only_ way to go," she declares with a sweeping hand gesture. "It's all about the eyes."

Brett tilts her head and squints off in the distance, thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess he does have nice eyes. Fair point."

"I have excellent taste. I know," Foster says with a shrug and smug grin. "Speaking of my excellent taste, I know the perfect guy for you, Brett. It just hit me. I don't know why I didn't think of him before!"

Brett looks alarmed as Foster suddenly grabs her arm and carts her off, but she doesn't resist. She meets his eyes over her shoulder and throws him a fast parting wave.

He waves back and shakes his head with half of a grin. Brett would either end up regretting this or she'd up with the man of her dreams. The latter result leaves a bad taste in his mouth which is quickly swallowed up by guilt. He should _want_ Brett to find the man of her dreams. He'd told her as much a couple of weeks ago, hadn't he?

He needs to get a handle on himself before he says or does something _incredibly_ stupid.

* * *

Oh good god, she's on the date that will not end.

The last time Foster set her up, she'd had fun for a while but this time she couldn't help but wonder…

What the hell had Foster been thinking?

It's not that he's a jerk or annoying or repulsive in anyway. He's just..._boring_.

She tuned out his story several minutes ago and she's honestly not even sure what it's about. Chocolate? Or cocoa beans? No, coffee beans? Oh god, what if he asks her for her opinion on whatever it is. Smile and nod, Sylvie. Smile and nod.

"...and that's why I only buy ethically sourced cocoa."

Cocoa! He _was_ talking about cocoa!

"Right, yes, that's very...honorable of you."

Honorable? Oh, Sylvie, what are you doing?

"So, you're a paramedic?" He asks. Oh no, what is his name? She forgot his name!

She nods and forces a smile to hide her panic. "Yes, yeah. Paramedic."

"Wow! That must be crazy. Especially in this city."

"Yeah, pretty crazy. Lots of accidents every day in this town."

"Oh yeah, I know," he replies with a shake of his head. "Just last month I was rear ended. My car was in the shop for a couple of weeks. It was a mess."

Yeah, tell that to the girl who stabbed herself in the eye with an eyeliner pencil last week, she thinks to herself. She barely restrains an eyeroll. She is definitely done with this date. He's nice enough but there's just no spark.

Plus, he's talking about himself an _awful_ lot. Even when he asks her a question, he somehow finds a way to insert himself into her answer. She would much rather be at home in her sweats with a pint of ice cream than in this fancy restaurant in a cocktail dress eating something with portions so small she already knows she'll be hungry in a half hour.

Or if not at home then at Molly's.

Oh, does she _ever_ wish she were at Molly's right now. She feels practically homesick at the idea of settling into a booth at her favorite bar.

She gnaws the inside of her cheek as silence descends upon the table. It's awkward and oppressive. Finally, she excuses herself to go to the restroom. She has _got_ to get out of here. She fires off a text to Kidd as quick as she can from inside one of the bathroom stalls.

"_Call me in five minutes and make up an emergency."_

"_What? Why?"_

"_Bad date. Just do it, please."_

"_Just tell the guy to get out."_

"_Kidd."_

"_Brett."_

"_Seriously, you're killing me."_

"_Ugh, fine. But next time don't be so polite."_

She snorts unattractively and turns on the ringer as she heads back to the table. She feels considerably brighter now that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. She sits through a few more minutes of inane conversation before her phone finally blasts her ringtone.

"I'm so sorry," She says as she glances at the screen. "This is work. I should take this."

"Sure, absolutely," he says.

She takes the call, makes her excuses — apologetically, of course — and then leaves. Luckily, the cabs are easy to find outside of a ritzy restaurant on a Saturday night and it's not long before she's being dropped off at Molly's.

A sigh of relief falls from her lips as she breezes through the front door. _Home_.

Kidd and Foster are sitting at the bar. (She tries not to notice Casey in a booth with Severide.) Kidd turns with a smirk and Foster wears a glare.

"You bailed?" Foster exclaims.

"He was a big dull dud," Sylvie defends. "He talked about cocoa for like a half hour."

"Cocoa?" Kidd asks with a bewildered expression. "Why?"

"I wasn't listening so I couldn't tell you," she answers as she sits down on a stool and flags Hermann down.

"Aw, Brett, you didn't have to dress up for us," Hermann says with a teasing grin.

She laughs and casually raises one shoulder. "Gotta wear this dress somewhere. Otherwise it just sits in my closet."

* * *

"And we've lost Casey."

The mention of his name pulls his gaze away from Brett. He knows he might be giving himself away but Brett in a short black cocktail dress is a sight he can't bring himself to miss.

"Sorry, what?" Matt asks Severide and Cruz.

They share a knowing glance as they sit opposite him in the booth and Casey gets the feeling he's being excluded from some sort of joke.

"We were saying that if Brett can put herself back out there then you can too," Severide tells him with a grin.

"I've been out there," Casey replies.

"Not in the last few months," Cruz says with a shake of his head.

Severide nods his agreement. He points at Casey when he starts to speak and cuts him off. "Smart Girl and Gabby don't count. We mean someone you might actually have a future with."

He doesn't bother questioning why they think he and Gabby don't have a future. He already knows. "I don't exactly have a lot of time to go out and find someone interesting."

Severide laughs. "Bullshit. That's a bullshit excuse."

Kidd squeezes into the booth next to Kelly and, seeming to come out of nowhere, Brett fills the empty space next to him. Foster slides in after her.

"There are other booths in this place, you know," Cruz says as he's crowded into the wall.

"Oh come on, Cruz," Foster responds with a light laugh. "We're one big happy family, right?"

Casey can't help but sympathize with Cruz's need for space when Brett's bare arm brushes against his. It's innocent contact but considering how she's dressed...his mind wanders.

"Where's your coat?" He blurts as he forces his gaze to Sylvie's face.

Her brow furrows for a second and then her eyes widen in alarm. "Oh no. I left in such a hurry—"

Foster snorts out a laugh. "You left it at the restaurant?"

"Worse," Sylvie replies as she covers her face with her hands. She pulls her hands away with a groan. "In his car."

Kidd winces. "So, does that mean you'll have to call him?"

She blows out a frustrated breath and slumps down in the booth, causing more contact of her side against his that he _has_ to ignore. "Or I could just let him keep it. Buy another one. I mean I have other coats—"

"Sylvie Brett," Foster says with a stern voice and an amused expression. "Get your coat back, coward."

Brett glares at her playfully. "You know what, name calling is not helpful."

"You came all the way over here without a coat?" Casey asks in concern. In _that_ dress?

Sylvie laughs and turns her head to meet his eyes. "Worried I'll catch a cold?"

More like worried about escalating the things he's feeling for her, but he smirks and shrugs to cover up that particular thought. "Can you blame me? I don't want to deal with Foster and another temp. I thought she was going to _murder_ Chad."

The group around the table laughs at Foster's expense while she shakes her head at them.

"We don't talk about him."

"You guys should have been there when she fired him," Joe adds gleefully. "_Savage_."

"Watch it or I'll fire _you_," Foster warns with a brow quirked at Cruz.

"So, the date didn't go well, Brett?" Severide asks with a teasing lopsided grin.

"Let's just say I'm giving up on blind dates," she answers vaguely. "I'd rather do this dating thing the old fashioned way."

"How?" Joe asks with a chuckle. "You never go out."

"I could start," she supplies weakly. "I think I just need to find a way where I can pick my dates myself. Or at least check them out before showing up to meet them. I don't know. I'll figure it out."

The subject changes and the rest of the night is spent talking about everything and nothing. That's one of the best parts of seeing everyone at Molly's. Work rarely follows them there and if it does they find a way to help each other deal with it. It gives them a tighter sense of family, and reinforces why he can't risk ruining things with Brett. What if he's not really ready to move on but tries anyway because he's so drawn in by his attraction to her?

Because that's what it is. He can deny it or call it something else but deep down he knows. He's attracted to Sylvie Brett. It's an extremely bad idea, but he can't help it. What he needs is someone risk free to distract himself with until his feelings for Brett pass.

Everyone begins trickling out of Molly's until just he and Brett remain. He remembers she showed up in a cab as they're both heading for the door.

"You need a ride?" He asks. Cruz left for Chloe's place half an hour ago so her only option, besides him, is to call a cab again. He trusts himself to get her home safely more than a cab driver.

"You don't have to—"

"I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to," he clarifies.

"Then I would really appreciate that. Thank you."

They step outside and, at the sight of Brett wrapping her arms around herself, he sheds his jacket and holds it out to her. "You need it more than me."

She rolls her eyes but still gives him a small smile. "You'd hate for me to miss a shift, right?"

He chuckles and offers it to her again. "For Foster's sanity _and_ mine."

A soft laugh escapes her as she begrudgingly accepts his jacket and slips it over her shoulders. "Thanks."

"So, are you going to call Boring Guy and get your coat back?" He asks as they walk toward where he parked his truck.

"Boring Guy?" She asks him in amusement.

He grins and gives her a knowing glance. "You didn't seem to know his name so—"

"I-I know his name!" She stutters. "It's not like you and Severide and 'Smart Girl'—" He raises his eyebrows in surprise at the nickname that he didn't know she knew. At his look, she continues with a dry grin. "Yes, I heard about that."

"Fine, if it's not like that then what's his name?" He fires back with a smug smirk.

Her nose scrunches up in a way that he finds completely adorable, and finally she releases a resigned sigh.

"Alright," she admits, bashfully. "It's a little like Smart Girl."

He laughs and opens his passenger side door for her. "I'm glad you're a big enough person to admit it."

"Oh, shut up," she admonishes, holding back a laugh of her own. "Just get in the truck and drive me home, Casey."

He nods, dipping and lifting his head a bit more dramatically than necessary, as she climbs in the truck. His lips stay sealed as he walks around to the driver's side and steps inside but he knows the shit-eating grin never leaves his face.

"You never answered my question," he points out as he starts the truck. "Are you going to call Boring Guy and get your coat back?"

"I'd rather not but I guess I'll text him. I do really like that coat." There's a wistful expression on her face as she mentions her missing coat. "It's a powder blue pea coat. Super soft and super warm. Got it on clearance or else it would have been way out of my budget. I suppose it's worth suffering through another conversation about ethically sourced cocoa." She grimaces and then shakes her head. "I mean, honestly, I'm glad he's paying attention to the world around him, but he acted like it made him some sort of world savior or something and that's a little hard to swallow in the face of how you and I spend our workdays. You know?"

"When you put it that way, I can't really blame you for liking the coat more than the guy," he says teasingly.

She laughs and runs a hand over her face. "I did kind of get all mushy about a coat, didn't I?"

"Just a bit," he replies as he pulls out onto the road.

"It's a good coat and I can be rest assured that it will never bore me with facts about cocoa. I think the gushing is fair. Dates come and go, Casey, but good coats are forever."

"Then just stick with the coat and skip the dates," Casey retorts, his grin tilting to one side.

"As much as I would like to do that, I shouldn't," Brett confesses with a tired exhale. "I have to move on sometime. Might as well be now."

"From the Chaplain?" He asks, despite already knowing her answer.

She hesitates but eventually gives him the answer he expects. "Yeah—yeah, from Kyle."

"You seemed to be happy taking re-entry slowly a few days ago," he says as he furrows his brow.

"I don't know if I would say I was _happy_. Truthfully, I'd call it...complacent. Reactive instead of proactive," she tells him with a faraway thoughtful expression. "I can't sit around and wait for something to happen." She pauses and then smiles slowly before finishing her thought. "I mean I love my coat, but I don't want it to be the only thing keeping me warm."

He has to work hard not to laugh and it ends up coming out as something between a startled cough and a snort. That was not what he expected her to say. Although, the idea of being the one to keep her warm is more appealing than it should be.

He glances away from the road to give her an assessing once over. "Exactly how much have you had to drink tonight?"

She presses her lips together to muffle a giggle and then carelessly lifts one shoulder. "Enough."

"Yeah, well, thanks to your new dating mission, Severide's on _my case_ now. He wants to know when I'm gonna start getting out there again," He tells her with an irritated huff. "That's entirely your fault."

She winces apologetically. "Sorry. That can't be easy for you. Not after…"

Her sentence trails off awkwardly and he knows why, but he has to stop avoiding talking about her. "After my ex-wife swept into town and then swept _out_ just as suddenly?"

"Yeah, considering your history I'm sure that's not an easy door to close, but maybe Severide's onto something. Maybe dating will help. Even if you're not ready for anything serious right now, it might be good practice for when you are," she advises him gently. "Everybody needs a rebound period. Maybe that's how you spend yours."

"You mean _we_," he corrects her. "It's your rebound period too."

"Yeah," she says with a frown. "We."

"I'm curious, if you're done with blind dating then how are you going to find all these dates you keep talking about?" He asks, sensing they need a shift in topic.

"That's an excellent question. The idea of bar hopping makes me want to throw myself out of this moving truck. Speed dating would be a waste of my time. Clearly, I can't trust Foster's taste after tonight. I guess...well, I guess there's always online dating," she says as she ticks off all of her options.

"Online dating?" If he sounds skeptical, it's because he is skeptical.

"Yeah, but one of those legitimate websites with huge personality assessments. Absolutely no swiping. Swiping is gross." She freezes and then gasps suddenly, grabbing his shoulder as she angles herself to face him. "You should sign up too! Oh, we could do this online dating thing together! You know, check in with each other? This would be nowhere near as nerve racking with a buddy! Plus, we can hold each other accountable. Like those meetings diet groups have?"

"You can't be serious," he says as he turns down her street. He glances over at her briefly to find a completely sincere expression on her face. "You're serious?"

"Come on, Casey, please? This could benefit us both! We're in sort of the same place emotionally. Who's gonna be a better partner for getting through this than me?"

Anyone. Literally _anyone_ other than the woman he's trying _not_ to be attracted to. Then again, maybe hearing her talk about her dates will help him get over the attraction quicker — snuff it out before it really takes root. Brett's also right about needing to rebound _and_ about the dates being a kind of practice for when he's really ready to be serious with someone. It _does_ benefit him in multiple ways.

He parks along the sidewalk and then meets her eyes with a reluctant grin. "Yeah, sure. Why the hell not?"

"Really?" She asks excitedly. "I thought I'd have to sell you harder on it."

"No, you've done a pretty good job of that already. You made some points I can't really argue with. So...yeah, let's do it."

He's not prepared for the hug she launches at him in gratitude. She pulls out of it quickly, leaving him slightly dazed and confused. Affection and warmth spread through his chest before he can stop it. Snuffing out his attraction to her is going to be harder than he initially thought. He can tell.

"Thank you!" Brett exclaims excitedly. "We can work on the details tomorrow. We'll help each other set up our profiles!" She opens the truck door and hops out with a wave. "Thanks for the ride, Casey!"

The door closes, and then she's gone. Whatever perfume or shampoo she uses lingers in the air around him like a floral scented whirlwind. He has no choice but to think about her the entire drive home.

What did he just do? Seriously, what is he thinking?

He has a very bad feeling about this, and it cannot end well.

Too late now, though. He gave her his word and he won't go back on it.

Even if he might regret that later.

* * *

"You and Casey are doing _what_?" Kidd asks with a shocked grin.

"We just finished setting up online dating profiles so we can be each other's moral support," Sylvie explains as she takes inventory of rig's supplies.

"You and _Casey_?" She repeats. "Supporting each other through _dating_?"

"Why are you acting like this is the most insane thing you've ever heard?" Brett asks her with a chuckle.

"He was actually on board with that?" Kidd asks, looking more and more confused each time she poses a question.

"Um, yeah," she replies with a nod. "He needs to move past Gabby and I need to get back out there. I don't know, it made sense last night."

"How drunk were you, exactly?" Stella asks with a suspicious lift of an eyebrow.

"He was stone cold sober. I was _slightly_ buzzed," she replies.

She tries not to blush in embarrassment as she recalls their conversation. Did she really tell him she wanted something more than a coat to keep her warm? She feels Stella's eyes on her so she doesn't stop to feel if her cheeks are heated the way she really wants to do. God, she needs to stop drinking around Matt Casey.

"Well, good luck to you both. Even if I think this is a _terrible_ plan," Stella says with a muted chuckle.

"What? Why would say that?" Brett questions as she gives up on inventory and looks Stella in the eyes.

"The few times you guys have counseled each other about your love lives have ended with questionable decisions," Stella reminds her with a slight wince. "You remember who told you that you and Kyle were good together, right? I mean, tell me your memory isn't that unreliable."

"Trust me, that's hard to forget," Sylvie replies with a tired sigh.

Stella is right, but what can she say? She can't tell her that the real reason this has to happen is because seeing Matt Casey with other women is the only way she'll get over him. Because then the question will be, 'wait, when were you under him?'

She closes her eyes tight to try and erase the image of her actually under Matt. She walked herself right into that one.

It would be a tad embarrassing to let her friends know she's developed a slight crush on a man who is clearly unavailable. (Yes, crush. That's all it is. Just a crush.) She plans to power it through it by forcing herself to hear about Casey's love life. It's going to be awful, but necessary.

And who knows? Maybe she actually will meet 'the one' while she's at it.

She flashes Kidd a smile that she's sure is unconvincing. "No risk, no reward. I've gotta start somewhere."

Stella doesn't look at all reassured, but she nods in acceptance. "If you say so."

Once she's gone, Brett allows herself to sit and think it all through. Is it really a risk worth taking? There's a chance that all she's actually doing is beating herself up for feelings she can't control. But there's a more likely chance that reminding herself Casey could never have feelings for her will finally get her through this niggling affection she's been feeling for too long now.

Confidence in her decision returns. She's sticking to her guns on this one.

No risk, no reward.


	2. Never Did Fit

**A/N:** Okay, so you guys don't know me. I'm new to this fandom. There's really not time for that in an authors note but I will say that I am on twitter as angellwings so look me up! I also sometimes post sneak peeks of fics I'm writing on twitter so give me a follow and you might get a little tease of something.

Anyway, without further ado, here's part two!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Part Two: Never Did Fit

* * *

"So you're looking for your skin,

That you never did fit in.

You can't hide when you're turned inside out.

Love is looking for you now."

-"Love is Looking for You" by Miranda Lambert

* * *

Matches start coming in right away, but both she and Casey nix almost all their early matches after just a few messages. It takes almost exactly a week for the two of them to find their first real possibilities. They make a plan. It's a slightly absurd plan but better safe than sorry.

They're taking their dates to the same restaurant at the same time, but they'll be at separate tables. Brett knows the restaurant has an open floor plan (because she's a very thorough researcher) so they should be able to see each other the entire time in case one of their dates goes badly. It's a bit ridiculous but also convenient. She won't have to give one of the girls instructions to call her forty five minutes in to the date because Casey will be just on the other side of the room.

It just makes sense — in a roundabout way.

They don't work out any sort of signal, but Brett figures they know each other well enough to be able to spot the signs of a horrible date. Brett arrives before her date, but not before Casey.

Casey spots her from a few tables away and nods with a conspiratorial smirk. She lifts her hand in a brief wave and smiles softly at him in return. He looks..._nice_. Very nice. So nice that she's wishing he was her date instead of…

Oh no, what's this one's name? She will not be one of those girls who can't be bothered to learn names, she thinks as she shrugs off her recently reclaimed powder blue coat. Why is she blanking on names lately, anyway? She never has before!

She racks her brain for the content of their messages, hoping they'll spark a memory of a name. Is it Joey? No, she'd remember that one. Johnny? Jerry? No, not Jerry. Jeremy! His name is Jeremy.

As if summoned by the memory of his name, Jeremy walks through the door. Thankfully he looks exactly like his picture. His sport coat is a little snug in the arms, indicating he's hiding some well developed muscles. His collar is open, giving him a confident and relaxed vibe. Dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin.

_Not bad, Sylvie Brett._

Is it possible she hit the jackpot on her first try?

She stands to greet him, surprised when he goes in for an enthusiastic (but perfectly innocent) hug. As they're sitting down, she spots Casey greeting his date.

A leggy redhead in a minidress and gogo boots.

_Seriously_?

Who the hell wears gogo boots in this day and age? She glances down at her heeled brown leather boots that come up to her calf, self consciously. Did she dress too casually for this? Do other women usually go to those extremes for a first date at a semi-casual restaurant?

Did she miss some key piece of womanhood about overdressing on purpose?

"You look beautiful," Jeremy says as he picks up his menu.

"Oh, thank you," she says in surprise. "You look very nice too."

Stop paying attention to Casey's date and focus on yours, Sylvie!

"You picked a really great restaurant," Jeremy told her. "This is one of my favorite places."

"Mine too! It's close to work and Molly's—That's the bar my friends and I…" She lets her sentence fade as she realizes Jeremy is staring at her with a _wrecked_ expression. She feels her brows furrow as she frowns at him in concern. "Are you okay?"

He shakes himself slightly but the hurt still floats around in his eyes. He tries to wave it off as he explains. "My, uh, _ex-_girlfriend's name is Molly."

Sylvie winces. "Oh, sorry. Did it end badly?"

"Not badly, really, just...suddenly," he confesses. "Honestly, I'm not even sure what happened. She wouldn't tell me."

"That's awful. It must be hard to move passed that," she says sympathetically as her eyes momentarily slide to Matt Casey. "Closures hard enough to come by as it is for some people."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about my ex on a first date, should I?" Jeremy asks nervously.

"Please. It's fine. We're supposed to be getting to know each other anyway," Sylvie tells him with a dismissive wave. "Don't worry about it."

She wasn't sure what he thought she said, but clearly her words took on a completely different meaning to him than she intended. His eyes lit up eagerly and she knew right then that she'd made a terrible mistake.

"Oh, thank god. It's been just over a week and I haven't had a single person to talk it through with. I keep thinking that if I could just voice all my thoughts on it out loud I could make it make sense. I mean, I'm crazy about her and I thought she was crazy about me. So now I can't decide if she played me or if I'm insane."

Sylvie forces a smile and gulps down a tired sigh. She did this to herself by telling him it was fine. She should have told him the truth. Hearing him talk about his ex is the last thing she wants. Her eyes land on his face again and her heart goes out to him. She thinks of what she did to Kyle and the guilt resurfaces. This is her penance. Counseling a potential date is her punishment.

"Well," Sylvie says as she reaches for her wine. "It's a good thing we planned to be here for a while then, isn't it?"

She jinxed herself by thinking she hit the jackpot. She should have knocked on wood.

* * *

Matt was fine with this date situation. He was. Totally fine. And then Sylvie took off that powder blue coat she loves so much. Now, he's no longer _fine_.

She's wearing a snug off the shoulder velvet top. It's modest yet somehow..._not_.

Is it weird to think a woman has an attractive collar bone? That's weird, isn't it? Especially when he considers that the woman in question has been his _friend_ for years. (Through multiple high risk emergencies, too many losses, and a failed marriage.) Her collar bone or her top or the way her hair brushes her shoulders should _not_ be on his mind the way they are now.

"Do you mind if I…"

He looks up at his date to see her glancing between him and her plate of food with her phone waving in the air between them.

"You know, for The Gram?" She asks with a too-wide smile.

No, no he doesn't know. Not really. "Uh, yeah—yeah go ahead."

"Sorry, I know some people hate the whole taking pictures of your food thing but this presentation is so great," she says as she angles her phone above her plate for the perfect photo.

It looks like an average plate of food to him but he nods anyway.

"So, Nina," he starts as she takes her photo. He needs to focus up and worry about his date, not his friend across the restaurant who he definitely shouldn't be thinking about. "What is it you do?"

Her profile listed a profession but he didn't quite understand it and Brett wasn't any help when he asked. Her only reply was a coy smile and a shrug.

"Oh, I'm a lifestyle blogger or some people call me an Influencer. I tell people what's trendy when it comes to fashion, cosmetics, interior design — like a jack of all beauty trades," she tells him as she shifts her phone's camera from her food to her complicated cocktail. "I have almost twenty thousand followers on Instagram."

He has no idea how significant that is but she seems proud of it. "Wow, that sounds interesting."

"It is," she replies. "I love it. And you...you're a firefighter?"

His instinct is to clarify his exact position. He thinks better of it though when he sees that she's still documenting the night. This time with a photo of the drink menu.

"Yeah, that's right," he answers.

"Very cool," she says absently. She's stopped taking photos so that she can flip through them. She turns the phone around to show him her screen. "That one's good, right? It doesn't look out of focus to you or anything?"

He's not in any way suited to answer that question. The only photos he takes are personal or of job sites and job site photos don't have to be perfect. No one else will see them but him. "No, it's good. Looks clear."

She lets out a short self satisfied giggle and then in a split second snaps of photo of him. It seems odd to him. He's not at all comfortable with it. Can he ask her to delete it? Would he be rude to ask or is she rude to have taken the photo in the first place? What's the modern dating procedure here?

Awkward silence surrounds them. Not that Nina notices. She's too caught up in posting her photos.

A moment later her phone chimes. She drops the fork she was using to pick through her salad and glances at her phone. A victorious smile takes over her face and she taps out a reply.

"Listen, Matt, this has been really great. You're a super nice guy. But something's come up and I've gotta jet."

His eyes narrow on her as she gathers her coat and her extremely tiny handbag. "Okay, wait," he declares as he sits up straighter in his chair. "What is this? Cause it's definitely not a date."

It didn't take a detective to figure out Nina wasn't a bit interested in him.

She sighs and bites her bottom lip with a guilty expression in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I really am, but my ex-boyfriend follows me on Instagram and he's the jealous type, you know? He wants what he thinks he can't have. So I—"

Matt chuckles and shakes is head at her in amusement. "You made yourself something he couldn't have. I get it. Doesn't exactly feel great but I get it."

She pats his hand apologetically. "If it helps, he wouldn't be jealous if you weren't totally hot."

He can't help it. He laughs. This is the most ridiculous date he's ever been on. Is this a sign of things to come with this online dating crap? God, he hopes not, but then again with his luck…

"Thanks," he replies with a wry grin. "It was nice to meet you, Nina. I hope it works out for you."

"You too," she tells him as her eyes move from him to Brett with a smirk. "Maybe now you can ask out that girl you've been staring at all night."

He blanches and stutters. "Oh no, I haven't—that's not—she's—"

Nina laughs softly and holds up a hand to signal him to stop. "Don't bother. I know what I saw. Plus, that guy she's with is boring the _hell_ out of her. She needs a save and who's better at saving people than firefighters?"

His brow furrows. Does she? Matt had been trying not to look at Sylvie's face too closely. He didn't want to know if she was having a good time with her tall, dark, and—dare he think it—handsome date. "Are you sure?"

Nina rolls her eyes at him. "Trust me. I know that look when I see it. She's trying to be nice but...she wants out."

He nods and then risks another look at Brett's face. Now that Nina's pointed it out, he sees it. He grins at Nina. "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime," Nina says with a wink. "See you around, Matt."

"See you around." In actuality, he probably won't.

His gaze finds Sylvie again just as she's trying to disguise a yawn with her hand. She overcompensates immediately after with an exaggerated sympathetic smile and a tilt of her head. He chuckles to himself and then dials her number.

He doesn't hear the phone ring but it must vibrate against the table because it immediately wins her focus. Out of the corner of her eye, he sees her glance his way. She makes an excuse to her date and then answers the phone.

"Casey?" She asks in confusion.

"Brett, listen, I know you're off shift but we've got a situation here and we need you to come in as soon as possible."

A ghost of a smile flickers across her face before she straightens her lips into a serious thin line. "Right, of course. I totally understand. I'm on my way."

"Meet you at Molly's," he says in a softer tone. "Post game recap."

"I'll be there," she agrees.

He hangs up, feeling much more optimistic than he has the entire night. As embarrassing as it is, he sort of can't wait to tell her about his disaster of a date. He and Brett share a sideways grin as he passes her on the way out of the restaurant. Maybe this arrangement won't be a total train wreck.

* * *

Walking into Molly's allows her to breathe again. Like taking off your shoes at the end of a long taxing shift. She sees Casey in the back, a beer sitting in front of him and a glass of wine waiting for her on the other side of the table. She takes off her coat before sitting in the chair across from him.

"Thanks," she says as she wraps a hand around the stem of her glass.

He smirks and nods. "Looked like you had just as much fun as I did tonight."

She laughs and then takes in a deep cleansing breath. "I jinxed myself," she admits.

"You what?" Casey asks in amusement.

"When he walked up, I took one look at him and I thought '_jackpot'_," She admitted, rolling her eyes at herself. "And then I told him about Molly's and he nearly burst into tears."

"I'm sorry, he what?"

"Apparently, his ex-girlfriend's name is Molly," she clarifies.

Matt winces through a muted laugh. "What are the odds?"

"Exactly. That's why I'm telling you, I jinxed myself."

"You didn't jinx yourself," Matt assures her with a grin and a shake of his head. "It's just the luck of the draw. Look at my date, apparently being an _Influencer_ means you take a picture of every damn thing on the table — thanks for the heads up on that, by the way."

She throws her head back with a full bellied guffaw and then lifts her shoulders with feigned carelessness. She should feel guilty but oddly enough, she doesn't. Casey doesn't seem to mind either. "I'm sorry. I couldn't resist seeing what would happen when Matt Casey ended up on a date with a _Lifestyle_ Blogger. It's just _such_ a bad match. I had to know."

"Perpetually kind Sylvie Brett actually being purposefully sneaky. I didn't know you had it in you," Matt says teasingly.

She bites her bottom lip and then leans forward to rest her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. She knows she's walking the line of friendly banter and flirtation, but at the moment she can't say she cares. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Casey."

Matt's brows twitch upward but never actually move and she could swear she sees his stare fall across her bare shoulders. But that can't be. She's imagining it or projecting. She has to be.

"I'm beginning to see that," he replies with an easy smile.

She clears her throat when their eye contact lingers a tad too long and pulls her eyes away from his. "So, what happened with Ms. Influencer? Your date ended before mine so something must have happened."

He scoffs and gives her a dry look. "I don't know if I would call it a date. It was more like a..._scheme_."

"What does _that_ mean?" She knew the date would go badly but she didn't intend for him to be used.

He waves a hand dismissively. "It was fine. She just wanted to make her ex jealous and apparently I was the most convenient tool for the job."

Annoyance flares and she immediately regrets not warning him about this girl in advance. "You're not a _tool_, Matt. In any sense of the word."

A self deprecating smile appears on his face and he bows his head with an appreciative glance. "Glad to hear you think so, but you truthfully don't need to worry about me. I wasn't offended." He shrugs as he continues. "Pride's a little hurt, I'll admit. But I'll get over it. I mean, at least she called me hot."

She feels the laughing smile form on her face. "Oh, did she? You're totally going to let that go to your head, aren't you?"

"It's the only consolation prize I've got," he tells her with a sideways smirk. "I'm going with it."

She shakes her head at him and takes a slow sip of her wine.

"So," he says. "Is this how we plan to do this next time too? Same time, same restaurant, different dates?"

"Aside from our actual dates, it seemed to work out pretty well, don't you think?" She asks.

"I do," he agrees firmly.

"As long as it works, why change it?" She says rhetorically. "I'll let you know when I get another decent match."

"Sounds like we have a deal," Matt says as he tips his beer bottle at her.

Yes, they do. Time will tell if it's actually a good one. This night was fine but who's to say they'll all be like this? Sylvie supposes they're about to find out.

* * *

The next week, Severide comes by to ask Casey about an incident report he knows he has in his quarters.

Severide watches Casey flip through files for a moment before he finally speaks. Matt could tell he had something on his mind from the minute Kelly walked through the door. He's been waiting for whatever's on the tip of his tongue.

"Stella told me you and Brett are online dating? At the same time or being each other's moral support or something? Is that true?"

Severide sounds confused, and Matt can't blame him.

"Something like that, yeah," he confirms. "We go on separate dates and then, I don't know, talk about it after, I guess. There's only been one date for each of us so far. The second attempt is tonight."

Severide grins. "First time didn't go so well, huh?"

"I got set up with an Influencer," he deadpans.

"A what?"

"That's what I said."

"Is that a job?"

"Apparently."

"What does tonight's date do?" Severide asks.

"She's a teacher. High school, I think." Matt answers as he locates the file and flips through it to absently check it's contents. When he's done he hands the file off.

Kelly takes it from him and stares skeptically.

"What?" Casey asks when he goes quiet. "You told me to get back out there."

"Well, yeah, but…"

"But?"

He looks hesitant but answers Casey with another question. "You sure you want to go on that particular journey with Brett?"

Matt's brow furrows. "Why wouldn't I?"

Severide snorts out a chuckle. "Casey, come on."

"What?" He snaps.

"Are you really gonna stand there and act like you're not, I don't know, _intrigued_ by Sylvie Brett?" Kelly asks with a smug grin.

"That doesn't matter," he says dismissively, even though his heart is beating against his ribcage. Is he that obvious? "I'm not saying I am, but if I was...it's too messy. She's my ex-wife's best friend and she just got out of an engagement."

"Not just. That engagement ended months ago. And as for Gabby...she's gone, man. I mean yeah she visited recently but that's all it was. _A visit_. You and Brett can't hold on to that ghost forever," Kelly says sagely. "There's nothing wrong with being into her. You're single, she's single. You've been friends for years...I'm just saying, think about it before you shut it all down."

He grunts in response, trying his best to be noncommittal. He doesn't want to think about it. Getting his hopes up is dangerous, besides doubts about his relationship with Gabby are still lingering in the recesses of his brain. Would those doubts be there if he was ready to move on? And this wouldn't be moving on with just _anyone_. It's Brett. What if he jumps in too soon and ruins it? It feels like too big of a risk. For both of them. He doesn't want to hurt her.

"Alright, I should get back. We still have a shit load of backlogged cases," Severide says with a sigh. "Sometimes I feel like I'm never gonna get back here."

Casey claps him on the shoulder reassuringly. "You will."

Severide's not gone ten minutes before a call comes in. Leaving Casey with little time to take in his words.

It's a residential fire. Single family home. It's a full blaze by the time they arrive but they're able to pull out the teenage babysitter and an eight year old boy. The babysitter is alert and only needs a bit of oxygen, but the boy…

Matt watches helplessly as Brett tries to revive him. Everyone on the scene is holding their breath, watching them intubate use the EKG. He sees the mask of determination on Sylvie's face fall as the chances of reviving him slip further and further away, but she keeps trying. She's muttering encouragement and whispering the kid's name like a prayer.

But they all know it's too late. Their collective stares shift away from Brett as Foster shakes her head and squeezes Sylvie's arm in a gesture of comfort. There's not enough comfort in the world for _this_, though. He resists the urge to go to Sylvie as the devastation moves across her features. From her eyes to the slight quiver in her bottom lip — he sees it all play out.

Foster makes the pronouncement, sensing like he does that Sylvie simply _can't_.

Later, when they're back at the firehouse, Matt watches her. She fills out her report, restocks the rig, sips coffee in the common room as if everything is normal. He knows it's not.

The call bumped up against the end of their shift so they've been here a few hours after they should have left in order to deal with the aftermath. Brett lingers in the common room, instructing Foster to leave without her, and he finally gets a moment alone with her.

"Hey," he says softly.

She gives him a wan smile and starts to wash her coffee mug. "Hey."

"How you doing? You okay?" He asks delicately.

"Been better," she admits with a halfhearted shrug. "I'm as fine as I can be. Considering."

He feels the wrinkle between his brows and knows his concern shows on his face. "Are you sure? I saw you out there today, Sylvie, and—"

"I'm fine, Casey," she says, cutting him off with a false smile. "Really, I just need a little sleep and a shower."

She's not convincing anyone, especially him. She has to realize that. He knows there's a line somewhere and he's treading it, but he has to keep going. He knows what he saw on her face today.

"So you say, but that was _rough_ today. No one would think any less of you if you _weren't_ fine. You know that, right?"

She sighs and shakes her head at him. "I told you I'm fine, and I'm fine. I'm just going to go home, relax for a while, and then get ready for my date tonight." She sets her mug on the rack to dry and then passes him to grab her bag off the couch. "I'll see at the restaurant tonight."

Their dates? She isn't seriously still going?

"About that," he begins cautiously. "Are you sure that's a good idea right now? You're clearly upset and we both know that coping after bad calls typically means turning to one of two things—"

"Clearly upset?" She asks with a hollow laugh. Her voice rises as she slings the strap of her duffle over her shoulder. "Did you just say I'm—how many times do I have to say I'm okay for you to believe me?"

Her eyes have hardened, her jaw is clenched, and her cheeks are dusted with red. She's _pissed_. Great. This was what he was trying to avoid.

"At least one more time," he replies with a huff. "Always at least one more time."

"Look, it was a tragic accident and we didn't get there in time. I'm not some newbie who doesn't know how things work. Sometimes we make the save, sometimes we don't. It's statistically impossible to save them _all_." Her voice cracks over the word 'don't' and he's certain he sees her blink away tears. "It's one call in a day full of them. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to go home. Or are you going to tell me I can't go home in addition to not going on my date? I mean what do you want from me, _Captain_? You want me to stay right here and do as I'm told like _perpetually kind_ Sylvie Brett always does?"

"I want you to calm down," he tells her sternly with his hands outstretched in a gesture of peace. "Before I have to write you up."

She blanches at him in outrage. "I was perfectly calm until you opened your mouth, Casey. Write me up if you want, but this conversation is over."

He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs tiredly. It's a sure sign that Brett is _not_ okay when she gets that irrationally angry. He's worried about her. Worried about her emotional state. Worried about her going on this date and using it as an escape. Worried she might let all of it build up until she cracks.

His muscles are tense, his head is pounding, and all he wants is to force Sylvie to come back and _talk_ to him. But he can't. If she wants to be left alone then, _for now_, he has to respect that.

Doesn't mean he has to like it.

* * *

It all hits her in the shower, at the same time as the spray of the water. Disappointment, grief, _rage_. She's never been one linger in a shower. If she wants something therapeutic, she goes for a bath with candles and soft music. But today, she finds herself unable to leave.

She presses her back against the cold tile and sinks to the floor. Her knees come up to her chest and her head bows to rest on them while she breathes through a wave of sorrow so devastating that it's second only to losing Otis.

What kind of world is this that not even a little boy from a loving family and a stable environment is safe? Why couldn't they have gotten the call sooner? What took the neighbors so long to notice? Why did everything have to go so perfectly wrong for an _eight year old boy_ who'd barely had a chance to see the world?

None of it is fair. She's completely shaken. Her emotional equilibrium is off kilter like she's spent the last 24 hours on the tilt-a-whirl at the county fair back home.

When she finally steps out of the shower, she's waterlogged and emotionally exhausted. She's _tired_ of being _sad_. She feels like she's been nothing but sad since Otis. The Firehouse is different. Her friends are different. Her _life_ is different.

And Matt Casey is…

Infuriating and confusing.

He's always been frustrating. He's a big damn hero. All heroes, in Sylvie's experience, are frustrating because they refuse to take care of themselves before anyone else. But he's never caused her to feel affection, heartbreak, and anger all at once like he has since she's been back in Chicago.

She wants to throttle him _and _hug him and maybe sometimes do _other_ things to him. Those feelings are near panic inducing. Because, as proven by Gabby's return, he's not exactly the most reliable person to receive her affection.

She also wants to throttle him for other things. Like telling her what to do. What the hell was he thinking telling her not to go on this date tonight? She _needs_ this date. She _needs_ to feel something besides heartache and fury. She _needs_ to be reminded that she's not an unappealing failure and this date will do that. She'll make sure of it. She'll go out and have a good time and then tomorrow will be a brand new day.

Casey's doubts and criticisms be damned.

Her determination to prove Casey wrong follows her as she gets ready for her date. So she had some complex emotions regarding their last call of the day. That does not make her emotionally vulnerable or some sort of broken little bird. She's _fine_. She's capable of compartmentalizing work and personal.

She gives her bedroom one last glance as she shuts the door, reassuring herself that she's better off going out than staying home.

* * *

Brett's already seated when Matt arrives at the restaurant. So is her date. This one is prompt, unlike the last one. He casts a fleeting glance over her as the hostess leads him to his table, his date hasn't arrived yet. He chooses the seat that faces Sylvie. Worry still plagues him. He knows she's capable of fending for herself and it's her life to live not his…

But that doesn't stop him from wanting what's _best_ for her — okay, maybe best isn't accurate. That doesn't stop him from wanting her to face as little _hurt_ as possible. Sometimes being hurt is what's best for a person. It teaches you a lesson — a hard one. He's had plenty of those. Gabby comes to mind again and he fights back a frustrated growl at his own stubbornness.

She's gone. Gabby is gone. One visit home doesn't change that. Severide was right. He can't hold onto her forever. You can't have a relationship with someone who chooses to live a life removed from yours, and even if he could…

The rose colored glasses came off a long time ago. He and Gabby had serious problems that loving each other couldn't resolve. They were _always_ hot and cold. Given the chance to try again, he wouldn't. He knows from both his day jobs, that you _can't_ sustain a highly unstable structure. At a certain point, you have to cut your losses and let it fall.

He reached that point a while back and didn't even realize it. Well, his heart did, as cheesy as it sounds, or he wouldn't be so conflicted over Sylvie, but his mind…

His mind has always been resistant to change.

Not all change is bad, though. The question is, would a change with Brett be worth losing the camaraderie they already have?

Sylvie stands and excuses herself from the table, giving Matt a detailed look at her outfit. Last time she achieved modest and flirty. This time...she's going for broke.

His throat goes dry at the sight of her dress. It's a little too much for this place but it looks too damn distracting on her for him — or, he notes, her date—to care.

It's low cut, but not too low, and wraps around the front with a tie at her waist. Long sleeves, and the same burgundy color as the top he saw her in last time. The skirt...well he's never seen her in anything that short. Even the cocktail dress she'd worn to the bar the other night was longer than _that_. She's paired it with black sheer tights and heels.

He's pretty sure his heart nearly stopped the minute she stood up. _Jesus_. Her legs—_No._ Stop it, Casey. You have your own date.

A date that he suddenly realizes has been standing at the table for who knows how long and has probably seen his slack jawed observation of Sylvie Brett. _Shit_.

He rushes to stand and greet her. He maybe overcompensates by pulling out her chair for her. His nerves overwhelm him so much that he forgets her name, even as she says it. He may have to sneak a glance at her online profile later to avoid asking for it again.

Get it _the fuck_ together, he tells himself.

He tries to make up some ground by asking his date about herself. Her work. Which she loves. She teaches music and theater arts. The kids in her classes are her passion. He hates that he can't remember her name because he likes her.

She's warm and open and friendly. She volunteers at a local youth theater program for homeschool children. She has a dog named Marmee because her favorite book is _Little Women_. Her hobbies are photography and camping. Preferably, together. She grew up in a small town. Her parents own and run a tiny dairy farm in Wisconsin.

She's exactly the sort of kind hearted and down to Earth woman that he probably needs. The issue is...she reminds him too much of another kind hearted and down to Earth woman who's sitting a few tables away.

He can hear Sylvie's laugh and it drowns out part of his conversation.

"But enough about me," his date says with an effacing smile. "You must be sick of my rambling. What about you? You're a firefighter, right? That must be stressful."

Oh no. He really doesn't want the spotlight on him. He doesn't even know this woman's name so talking to her is a bad idea. Just as he's about to try and deflect, he spots her car keys on the table and a quirky keychain with her name on it. He holds in a sigh of relief. _Sydney_. Her name is Sydney.

"It is, but you find ways to cope and, not to sound cocky or anything, but I'm _good_ at what I do. If someone's going to be out there addressing emergency situations, I want it to be _me_," he explains.

"That's not cocky," Sydney says, with a grin that makes it very clear she's interested in him. "That's confidence, and I like it very much."

Oh. _Okay then_. He must be doing better tonight than he thinks.

Just as he starts to believe he's found his footing, he sees Sylvie and her date standing out of the corner of his eye. He glances over quickly, trying not to draw Sydney's attention, and notices the folio for the check is on the table and her date with the chiseled jaw is helping her put on her coat.

Are they..._leaving_?

He's not sure what that means exactly except that there definitely won't be a postgame recap at Molly's. Unexpected disappointment washes over him. It's not that he wanted either of them to have bad dates but he _did_ want to talk to her tonight. He didn't realize how much he's been looking forward to it until now.

Seeing Sylvie Brett for one on one time outside the firehouse is more addictive than he ever thought it would be.

"You're also in construction?" Sydney asks, bringing his focus back to her. "What's that like?"

He tries not to track Sylvie and her date on their way out the door. He _tries_ to focus on answering Sydney's question. He fails at both, apparently. When his eyes land on Sydney again, they're glaring daggers at him.

"_My_ name is _Sydney_," she says as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"Okay?" He's totally lost. "I'm—I'm aware of that."

"Are you? Are you, _really_?" She asks with an irritated sigh. "Because you just called me _Sylvie_."

_Fuck! _"I—I did?"

"Is she that girl you've been checking out all night?" Sydney asks as she stands from the table. "I mean, I thought I was just being overly sensitive at first, but now...I think you should go call _Sylvie_ and then lose my number." Her face is blushing in embarrassment as she hastily puts on her coat. "Or profile or—or whatever. Oh, I knew online dating was a bad idea."

He's in too much shock to defend himself or try to talk her into staying which means he ends up sitting alone at a table with two plates of half eaten food.

And no appetite.


	3. Burning

**A/N: **The reception for this story has been so lovely! Especially considering I'm new to this show. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it! Thank you so much! I have finished part 4 and I should only have one more part to finish it all together. So all in all this story should have five parts. I'll post the next part once I finish part 5. Once again, thank you to **katertots**! She really helped me a lot with this chapter!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Part Three: Burning

* * *

"Maybe you've been burning,

But you can't blow out a flame that you can't find.

Maybe you've been thirsty,

But the rain ain't enough when you're this dry."

-"Love Is Looking For You" by Miranda Lambert

* * *

Holy shit. That date really went to hell in the amount of time it took him to mispronounce two syllables. He's never done that before. _Ever_. He could catch her and explain that their names are similar and the other woman in question was a handful of tables away. He could tell her Sylvie Brett is just a friend and explain he's been worried about her for most of the day.

But neither of those facts seem to make it any better. So he doesn't.

Stella was right. He _is _a dumbass.

He pays the check and dejectedly makes his way over to Molly's. He's not ready to go home yet, but he doesn't want to stay there.

When he gets to Molly's he finds Severide at the bar with a beer and takes the stool next to his.

"Date over already?" Severide asks with a grin.

"It did not go well," he admits.

"What did you do?"

"Why does it have to be me?"

"Because I _know_ you," Kelly says with a chuckle.

"Look, I don't wanna talk about it, okay?" Matt tells him as he flags Hermann down for a beer.

He sets his phone face up on the bar so he can talk to Kelly and keep an eye on his texts. A part of him is still hoping Brett might stop by.

"Where's Brett?" Hermann asks as he gets Casey his beer. "Didn't you guys have that weird date pact thing tonight?"

How does _Hermann_ know about that?

"Brett's already been by," Foster says from a few stools over.

"When?" Hermann asks, irritably. Casey shares his sentiment.

"When you were in the back. She talked to Kidd for a second and then went back outside," she explains. "She seemed to be in a hurry to get back to her date. Can't say I blame her. Dude looked cut like a superhero."

Casey takes a sip of his beer to disguise the annoyance on his face. He wants Brett to be happy. Really, he does. So why does it feel like something is clawing at his insides anytime he thinks about her leaving with that guy?

Kelly quirks a brow at him and Matt hates the understanding that dawns in the other man's eyes. Like that one piece of information was the answer to _everything _else.

"How was _your_ date, Casey?" Foster asks with pointed curiosity. She looks like she thinks she already knows his answer. He hates that _too_.

"He doesn't want to talk about it," Kelly tells her.

She winces. "That bad, huh? What'd you do?"

Severide laughs and gives him an expectant look. "Yeah, Casey. What did you do?"

"I said, I don't want to talk about it," he repeats. "Anything happen here, tonight?"

"You're deflecting," Foster says with a nod. "It's worse than I thought. Did you offend her somehow? Did she storm out of the restaurant?"

Foster is way too perceptive. Coming to Molly's was a huge mistake. He finishes off his beer and throws down cash. Time to make a quick exit.

"As fun as this interrogation is," Matt says as he stands from the stool. "I'm heading out."

"Oh, come on," Foster calls to his retreating back. "Was I close?"

It's not until he gets home that he realizes he left his phone sitting on the bar during his speedy retreat from Foster. He has no intention of going back right _now_. He'll go by in the morning when Hermann opens to do inventory and go over the books. He has a job to check on anyway, and Molly's is on the way.

By the time he heads to Molly's the next morning he's nearly forgotten the fact that Brett left the restaurant with her date. The knowledge is still there, obviously, but it's buried under a to-do list that's grown longer than it should be. It kept him properly distracted as he got ready.

That to-do list and his mostly positive outlook on the day are all of a sudden forgotten once he reaches Molly's. His hand is on the door when a cab pulls up to the curb and an all too recognizable person steps out.

"Brett?" He asks in surprise.

She tenses, he can see it even with her back to him, and then slowly turns to face him.

"Casey?" She asks, startled. "What are you doing here?"

He gestures to the door with a thumb pointed over his shoulder. "Left my phone here last night."

His eyes appraise her quickly and his stomach dips in despair. She's wearing that burgundy dress from last night. She's not wearing the tights and her hair is pulled up into a messy bun so he didn't catch it at first. But that is definitely the dress that almost killed him last night. It's still almost killing him this morning but for an entirely different reason.

"Why are you here so early?" He asks, trying his best to sound casual.

"I, uh, well…" she blushes as her sentence trails off. It only takes her a moment to recover. "I'm picking up my car. I left it here last night."

He knew that sentence was coming but he wasn't prepared for how it makes him feel. The thing that tried to claw its way out of his chest last night is back. He idly tugs at the neck of his shirt, hoping to relieve some of the discomfort. What _is_ that feeling? He thinks he remembers it but it's stronger than it's been in a long time. The other instances he's felt this around Sylvie were annoying itches. This is not an itch. This is a ripping _ache_. It's foreign yet familiar. He wishes he knew how to make it stop.

"Oh. Right," he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. "So, I take it the date went well, then?"

She reluctantly steps closer and nods. He's not sure if she steps closer because she wants to keep talking to him or because she feels like it's a conversation she can't avoid. He kind of wishes she'd walk away and refuse to answer his questions like she was still mad at him. _Is she_ still mad at him?

"Pretty well, yeah," she replies through a thick swallow. "Mark is a real gentleman."

His natural reaction is to snort derisively, but he stifles it. "Mark?"

She nods. "Yes, that's his name. Mark. How was _your_ date?"

The name Mark makes this guy sound like a total prick to him, but he might be biased.

"My date was fine. Her name is Sydney. She's a high school teacher," he answers, vaguely. She doesn't need to know how badly he fucked up last night.

"Well, she sounds nice. Do you think you'll see her again?" Brett questions.

He might be wrong, but he thinks he sees something besides friendly support in her eyes. Something darker, sadder.

He shrugs. "She is nice, but I don't know. We didn't talk about it last night."

He feels shitty for all these half truths but he can't tell her what happened after she left the restaurant. _He can't_.

"You should message her. Let her know you want to see her again," Sylvie encourages. "People can't read minds, Casey. She won't know unless you say something."

Their eyes meet and for a brief second he wonders if that remark is more about Sylvie than Sydney. Is she trying to tell him something? Does she see through him the way Severide does?

That second passes when she gives him a playful smile. "You can be pretty hard to read sometimes, you know," she teases.

He chuckles and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Who me?" He asks, sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes but her smiles never falters. "I should go," she says as she gestures over her shoulder to her car. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he answers. "Definitely."

This entire conversation was awkward but at least she doesn't seem so pissed at him now. Unless…

"Brett!" He calls as she's walking away.

She turns with a questioning expression.

"Are we...are we good?" He asks in concern. "You know, after yesterday? I didn't mean to—" He didn't mean to what? Tell her what to do? Force her to talk? He changes his mind mid sentence and tries again. "I was just worried about you. You know that, right?"

She nods and smiles weakly. "I know. Thanks for worrying, Matt. And...we're good. _Really_."

His eyes narrow on her smile that doesn't reach her eyes. He _wants_ to believe her. "You're sure?"

"Positive," she declares. "Just forget it ever happened. Look, I really have to go. But I'll see you tomorrow. We can talk more then if you want."

"Right, yeah, okay. See you later, then."

He should continue on his way into Molly's but he can't bring himself to move until she's in her car and driving away. Was it just him or was that entire conversation _painful_? What is off with the two of them now? Is it the fight? Is it the dates? Is it both?

A forlorn sigh escapes him when he's finally able to move. Something is different now. He was worried about acting on his feelings and changing things but it seems like things are going to change between them whether he does anything or not.

What is he supposed to do about a problem like Sylvie Brett? There's not an instruction manual or a playbook for developing feelings toward your ex-wife's-best-friend-slash-coworker. He's falling without a net and, as expected, it's anything but comfortable.

* * *

Sylvie Brett does not hook up on the first date.

Yet Sylvie Brett _did_.

What had she been thinking?

Yes, okay, Mark was very charming and a perfect gentleman, but even so last night was abnormal for her. The only thing she can figure out is that…

Matt Casey was right.

He was so damn right.

She wouldn't say she had regrets exactly, but spending last night with Mark also didn't feel _right_. Something about it didn't fit. Maybe she didn't regret it but she knew it was a mistake. She'd fled Mark's apartment the minute she woke up before him. She'd let her mixed up emotions get the better of her. Between losing the boy, fighting with Casey, and feeling like she was all kinds of inadequate she'd let herself fall into bed with someone she didn't know.

She wanted to not feel so alone. She _wanted_ to feel wanted. Since returning to Chicago and 51, she's not done very much living. She feels like she's done a lot of sitting and waiting. She doesn't want to do that anymore. She wants to _feel_ — to enjoy life. Anger and sadness controlled her too much lately, but she doesn't know how to let them go. She mistakenly thought that's what she was doing last night, but now she sees she was doing the exact opposite.

To make things worse, she had to run into Casey during her walk-of-shame. (Clearly, the universe is out to get her for some reason. Maybe for hurting Kyle, that's her running theory.)

When she gets home she realizes she never actually got Mark's number. Despite her mistake in sleeping with him too early, she actually would like to see him again. Maybe make up for her lack of getting to know him last night. But she doesn't want to seem too eager, so she waits. She'll message him through the app before she goes to bed. That's breezy. _Casual_.

She goes about her day. She cleans, does laundry, catches up with Cruze and Chloe. Chloe is dying to talk to someone about wedding plans and today Sylvie is that someone. By the end of the night, she's had enough of floral arrangements and place settings and venue possibilities.

She opens the app and pulls up her matches but Mark is no longer there.

Her brow furrows while she goes through her match history. Sure enough, he's just..._gone_. She's not sure what that means. Did he deactivate? Unmatch her? Can you even do that? Frustration fills her. She huffs and types out a text to Emily and Stella.

"_Mark's profile is gone."_

Stella is the first to reply. "_The guy you hooked up with last night?"_

"_Oh, no he did not."_ Emily responds. She pairs her message with a gif of Tyra Banks that makes Sylvie smile despite apparently being ditched.

"_Yes, the guy from last night. I went to message him and I can't find him."_

"_You didn't get his number?" _Emily asks.

"_I didn't think about it when I left this morning."_

"_What the hell, did that dick ghost you?" _Stella's question is completed with the angry cursing emoji.

"_What's his name? His full name? I just wanna talk. I swear."_

Sylvie laughs and rolls her eyes at Foster. She knows her better than that. "_No murders, please. I don't want to have to explain this to Hailey when she shows up to arrest you both."_

"_That's a douchebag move so I make no promises." _Kidd sends back. "_Are you okay? I mean, that's a shitty feeling. I've been there."_

"_We all have." _Foster adds.

She gives herself a moment to take stock of her feelings. She's pissed, yes. But hurt? No, not really. Huh. That's surprising. She was looking forward to getting to know Mark, but if he doesn't feel the same then it's no sweat off her back. She had a fun night, made some questionable decisions, and now she's ready to move on.

Simple as that. Go figure.

"_I'm actually...fine."_

"_Really?"_

"_You're kidding, right? You can't be THAT nice."_

Sylvie chuckles at her friends and shakes her head. It's not that she's not angry. She is. But she knew something with Mark wasn't working deep down. It's why she felt the urge to run that morning. Her instincts were right. She should trust them more often. Right now, they're telling her that Mark did her a favor. She would have tried to make it work if he hadn't cut and run. Just like she did with Kyle.

She doesn't want to _make_ a relationship work. She doesn't expect it to be easy, but she does expect it to feel natural. She can hold out for that.

She _will_ hold out for that.

From here on out.

* * *

"Hey," Cruz says, getting Matt's attention as he walks into 51 for his shift. "You were with Brett the night of her date right? Did you catch the guy's name?"

Matt's pretty sure he gives Cruz a look as if he's gone insane. "Mark something, I think. Why?"

"So, you don't have his last name either?" Cruz asks. "Man, you were my last hope. Brett won't talk."

He's still lost. "What, are you doing a background check or something?"

"No," Joe sneers. "Foster told me the jackass ghosted her."

Casey's brows raise. That means what he thinks it means, right? "He's gone radio silent?"

"Vanished into thin air," Joe says with a nod. "I was hoping to get one of our buddies at CPD to mess with him a little. I mean what kind of douche bag do you have to be to ditch _Brett_?"

True enough. Brett's too good. Anyone who uses and abuses that kind of goodness deserves to have CPD yanking their chain. Among other things.

Cruz lightly slaps Casey's shoulder. "Oh, man, do you think she'll tell _you_ his last name?"

Casey snorts unattractively in amusement. "If you think anyone is getting that name out of her then you don't know Brett. She knows exactly what we would do with that information and she's not about to let any of us get in trouble for her. Trust me on that one."

"I'm just saying, if you could get it out of her then we'd all be grateful," Joe says with a smirk. "Worth a shot, right?"

He splits off from Cruz to head toward the locker room. Gallo and Ritter wave as they pass him and he nods. But he's not really paying attention. He's stuck on the idea that someone wouldn't want Brett's company. He turns the corner, distractedly, and runs right into Brett and Foster's conversation.

"Was it really necessary to tell Cruz?" Brett asks her with a tired sigh. "I told you, I'm okay, and the last thing I need is these guys getting reprimands for pranking some guy who's barely worth the effort."

He tries not to make too much noise as he reaches his locker. He knows once they notice him the conversation will end.

"You know as well as I do that Sylvie Brett does not hook up," Foster says with a pointed glance. "So the fact that you did tells me how much you liked him. For him to then turn around and—" Emily breathes through outrage on Sylvie's behalf and then glares. "When I was ghosted you went off on a random doctor for me. You really think I'm gonna do any less for you? He deserves to have these guys dish out a little pain." Foster's gaze then flicks past Sylvie to him. "_Right_, Casey?"

Sylvie startles and spins to face him with wide eyes. "Oh, god. Hi."

She looks flustered and embarrassed. He shouldn't think flustered and embarrassed is a cute look for Sylvie. But that hasn't stopped him yet and it doesn't seem to be stopping him now.

He smirks and nods. "Hi." He continues but directs his next remark to Foster. "I think we should follow Brett's lead on this. Personally, I wouldn't mind seeing him _inconvenienced_, at the very least. But I don't have Brett's restraint, so…" his sentence trails off as he shrugs.

"Seriously?" Foster asks him, annoyed. "Killjoy. I was counting on you to back me up."

"Sorry, I've seen Brett mad up close and personal. It's safer to be her back up than yours," he replies with a grin. "If she wanted payback she'd find a way to make it happen."

"Thank you," Sylvie says in exasperation. "Finally, someone listens to me. He's not worth the work payback would require. Besides, I'm sure karma will come for him eventually. It's certainly been coming for me recently."

"It's funny that you think you have any bad karma," Foster declares with an eye roll. "You're the most wholesome person I know." She shuts her locker and walks away from them with an aggravated huff. "Goody two shoes, the both of you."

Sylvie clears her throat awkwardly once they're alone and leans against her closed locker door. "Thanks for that, by the way. She's been nonstop since I texted her last night."

He shakes his head at her. "I can't say I blame her, but you don't need to thank me. You should know I've always got your back. I may not agree completely, but I can count on you to make a _good_ decision. Goodness is just who you are."

He risks meeting her gaze and finds her blushing but grimacing at him with a self deprecating expression.

"Perpetually kind, you mean?" She asks in an apologetic tone.

He originally said those words to her to tease her and then she'd thrown them back at him as if he'd degraded her somehow. He's hesitant to agree even though he does. It's accurate whether she likes it or not. "Yeah, exactly."

"Well," she says. "I didn't make a good decision the other night."

He starts to ask her to clarify until a call for ambo 61 comes in. He's sure he didn't disguise the disappointment on his face well enough because her hand purposefully brushes his arm as she leaves, allowing him to catch the promise in her eyes. They're not done talking. He'll eventually find out exactly what she meant by that.

He just has to wait for it.

And try to ignore the damn tingle in his arm. No doubt left behind by her gentle touch.

Easier said than done.

It's dark and the firehouse is filled with middle of the night silence when they're finally in the same place at the same time again. He finds her on her cot in the sleeping quarters, with a mug in her hands and a book in her lap. The cot next to hers is empty so he takes it without asking. She looks up as he sits and smiles shyly.

"So," he starts as he leans forward to prop his elbows on his knees. "What did you mean earlier? About not making a good decision?" He's talking in a hushed tone so as not to wake anyone else and leaning toward her as much as he can without invading her space.

Guilt flashes over her eyes and she glances around for prying eyes or ears. She sets the book aside and then moves to his cot to sit next to him, mug still in one hand. The small space forces her side to press against his and the need for quiet has her leaning toward his ear when she speaks.

"You were right," she admits, her shy smile turning wan. "After last shift, you told me I shouldn't go on that date—you were right. I should've listened. I just...I didn't want to be alone and I was fed up with being so…" she loses track of her words so he ventures a guess.

"Unhappy?" He suggests.

She swallows thickly and nods. "I used that date as an escape and that was _not_ a good decision. Honestly, I think I deserved to be ghosted. God, I was such a _brat_ to you, Casey. You were trying to be a good friend and I—"

Oh no, none of that. He won't let her go there. "Hey," he says, cutting her off sharply. "You had a lot going on. I get that. I didn't take any of that personally."

She chuckles dryly and dramatically drops her head to her chest. "Which just makes me feel worse." She lifts her head and cradles her mug with both hands. "I should have listened to what you were actually trying to say. It's just hard being _me_ and doing this job. I'm always afraid my emotions are going to make me look...I don't know. Weak, I guess. I don't want to give anyone a reason to doubt me. You included."

"Your _emotions _are why you're so damn good at this, Brett," he assures her. "They don't make you weak. They make you better. We could all be a little more in touch with those. We show up and we clean up a mess, but to the people involved it's more than a mess. You remind us of that, and honestly the way you use those emotions out in the field is impressive as hell. None of us doubt you. _Especially_ me."

The dim light reflects off of the tears pooling in her eyes. The watery smile she points at him tells him they're not tears of sadness, which is a huge relief.

"I—I don't know what to say to that," she replies truthfully. "I feel like you're giving me more credit than I deserve, Matt."

"Not possible," he declares with a shake of his head. "I do worry about one thing when it comes to you, though. Which is why I maybe pushed you a little too much after last shift. I should have let you process things your own way. Handling that they way I did probably didn't help anything. I see that now."

"You weren't the problem," she disagrees. "I was."

"No, I was part of it. It wasn't all you, Sylvie," he admonishes softly. She's too nice. The blame doesn't entirely lie on her shoulders. She knows that just as much as he does. "I should have approached you differently. But you...you spend so much time taking care of other people. I don't know. It makes me wonder who makes sure you take care of yourself. I wanted you to talk to me about it. I didn't want to start a fight."

Her eyes roam his face in response. He's not sure what she's looking for but he doesn't shy away. He can make out appreciation mixed with surprise on her face. They're both quiet for a bit as they let the moment settle. Honesty like this is hard won. He knows that better than most.

When the spell of their shared vulnerability starts to fade, her eyes narrow on him teasingly. "You're secretly a big softy. Aren't you, Matt Casey?"

The question is unexpected and he laughs louder than he should given the late hour. "_Secretly_ being the key word. It's not a secret that I let many people in on."

She bumps his shoulder with a playful grin. "In that case, I'm honored to be one of the few you let in." Her expression grows serious and her eyes find his again with a heartfelt glance. "I mean it. I really do. Thank you."

He mirrors her gesture and bumps her shoulder in return. "For what?"

She sighs contentedly and shrugs. "For being the one and only Matt Casey, I guess."

He feels her lean into him ever so slightly, and allows himself a minute to take in her profile. His thoughts from the day before resurface. Things with Sylvie are changing. He doesn't know what they're becoming and he doesn't seem to have any control over it anyway. The only thing he can control is his reaction. Does he fight it or go with the flow? He still has no earthly idea.

"Let's make a deal," he proposes. "I'll keep being the one and only Matt Casey if you'll keep being the one and only Sylvie Brett?"

She chuckles and nods. "I think I can manage that."

"It's settled then," he states with a smirk.

"Looks like it," she agrees. "We both agree to always be Matt Casey and Sylvie Brett and no one else."

Maybe he's gone insane, but he thinks their names side by side sounds a little too close to perfect. With every day this situation gets more and more dangerous. He can't keep going with one foot in and one foot out. He's learned from past experience, that's how people end up hurt.

He refuses to let himself hurt her. He needs to figure himself out—get his head on straight. Dating other women may be best for him but he's never gonna figure that out if he's always distracted by Brett sitting across the restaurant from him.

He needs to go on a date without her. He also feels like he needs to apologize to Sydney. She seemed very nice and, even with Sylvie sitting close to them, there was no excuse for his behavior.

Two birds, one stone.

He can apologize to Sydney _and_ see what happens on a date without Sylvie nearby. Maybe once he does that he'll know which way to take things with Brett.

* * *

Clearing the air with Matt does wonders for Sylvie's disposition, she notices. A weight has been lifted off of her chest and the world looks a bit rosier. That fact is dangerous. It means he has a tiny bit of power over her. Which is terrifying when she considers she has no idea where they stand.

Her crush hasn't died like she hoped it would. In fact, it's blossomed into something else. Something bigger than a simple crush. It has her taking in the sights and smells of him for much longer than necessary and leaning into him when there's no reason to. With her shoulder pressed to his, she can tell his biceps are hard muscle. She wonders if the rest of him is just as defined. Usually, she stops herself before letting her mind wander too far but this time she indulges.

Her first thoughts aren't even that impure. No, her first thoughts are about all the wonderful things he's just said to her and how much she wants to simply hold him. She wants to pull him down onto the cot they're currently sharing and wrap herself around him. He's been through a lot over the last few years — more traumatic things than she's seen — and she wonders how often someone's just..._held him_. She could do that. She'd _like_ to do that. The question is, would he let her?

Not here in the firehouse, she knew that was a nonstarter, but some other place and some other time, maybe—

He clears his throat, jarring her out of her reverie.

"So, about our next dates," he says quietly, while glancing around for any of the others who might not be asleep. A wild part of her imagination lets her hope that maybe her _next_ date will be with him. But then he opens his mouth and reality ruins the daydream. "Maybe we should go on them separately?"

It's on the tip of her tongue to say, _or we go on one together — just us?_ But she doesn't. Somehow over the course of her shift she's let herself forget that he still has Gabby on the brain.

"Separately?" She asks.

"Yeah, together worked the first time but the second time that didn't go so well for either of us. Which maybe means we need to do things a bit differently," Matt tells her.

She shifts away from his arm, missing the contact immediately but needing the space, and assumes she looks as confused as she feels. "Didn't go well for either of us? I thought you said it went well with...um, Sydney?"

"Uh, it—it did, but I'll admit I was a little distracted with worry about you and our fight...so I didn't make the best first impression. I doubt I'll get a second date," he explains.

"Tell her what happened," she urges him, even though doing so stings like hell. "If she's worth your time then she'll understand. But I guess I see your point. We can try it and if that doesn't go well either," she adds with an amused glance in his direction. "We'll reassess."

"If that doesn't go well either then I give up," Matt says with a chuckle. "I don't know if this online dating thing is for me."

She rolls her eyes at his dramatics. "It's only been two dates. Relax, Casey. Just go with the flow."

For some reason, he tenses at those words. The look he gives her is startled and she wonders what she's accidentally reminded him of.

Probably something to do with Gabby or maybe even Sydney.

A call comes in for truck 81 and much like earlier their conversation is left half finished. He pats her knee in a purely friendly manner as he stands.

"We'll hash it out later," he promises as he leaves.

Once he's gone, she falls back onto the cot with a frustrated groan. She needs to measure her expectations with Matt Casey. Having her hopes set too high means she might be in for an awful hard crash landing. Her fantasy of someday just simply holding him evaporates. He doesn't want her to hold him. He wants someone else, _anyone_ else.

Truck 81 is on it's way back when the end of shift rolls around and, rather than face Matt again, she hurries out of the firehouse. Her car pulls away just as 81 comes around the corner. Until she can get her emotions in check, avoidance is probably best.

Casey isn't hers to have. She'd do well to remember that.

She doesn't hear from him again until the next day when her phone chimes, indicating a text.

"_You were right. After I explained and groveled, she agreed to another date tomorrow night."_

Of course she did. Is there a woman alive who wouldn't give Casey at least _one_ more chance to sweep her off her feet? No, there isn't. Herself included.

"_That's great! I'm not even gonna say I told you so."_

Well, if Casey is going on a date then maybe she should too. If she wants to get passed her feelings for Casey (and get over her disastrous one night stand) then she needs to get back out there. She's been casually chatting with one of her matches throughout the day. Maybe he'll want to meet tomorrow night.

She messages him and it doesn't take long for him to respond in agreement. He would love to go out tomorrow. Where should they meet?

Okay, see? She's still got it. Maybe not for Matt Casey, but other more available men seem to like her. She picks a time and place. She'll meet him for drinks and if she likes him, they'll go to dinner. After Mark, she plans to be careful with this one.

* * *

Matt can't believe he actually talked Sydney into a do over. Sylvie was right. She accepted his apology and his explanation. He almost changed his mind about messaging Sydney again. Some superstitious part of him saw Sylvie throwing his thoughts back at him as a sign. She told him to go with the flow after he'd questioned leaning into his new feelings for her and the timing of that couldn't be a coincidence.

He thought maybe he'd talk to her a little more when he got back to 51 — try and figure out whether or not she felt this too — but she was already gone when he got back.

So, now he's having dinner with Sydney. She's giving him a second chance and he hopes to make a better first impression this time. So far, so good. Conversation has been pretty steady and she's got a nice laugh. He has to admit, though, there's not a lot of chemistry. Or any really. She's perfectly nice, but he can't stop comparing what he feels around her to what he feels around Sylvie and there's no contest.

He's gotten a second date, but already he can tell they won't have a third.

So, when his phone buzzes from it's spot on the table he risks a look.

_Sylvie?_ She knows he's on a date and _he knows_ the last thing she'd want is to interrupt him. She's polite to a fault. If she's calling…

"Excuse me," he says to Sydney, urgently. "I'm sorry. I should take this."

She nods, though she does look a little put out, and he steps outside to answer the call.

"Brett?" He asks, worriedly.

"Um, hi, sorry to call during your date." Her words come out in a rush. She sounds frazzled. "I mean I really shouldn't have called you at all. Yeah, you know what, forget it. Get back to your date. I'll call Foster."

"No, you won't," he insists. "You've got me on the line now and I'm officially worried. What's wrong?"

He _knows_ something's wrong. He can hear it in her voice and feel it in his gut. She sounds strained.

"Well, I'm kind of stranded. My car is at Molly's and I could take an Uber I guess but I just—" Her sentence ends abruptly and he thinks he hears a curse. Something Sylvie Brett does very rarely. "This is stupid. Nevermind. I shouldn't be bothering you. I'll just get a rideshare and—"

"Where are you?" He asks, firmly. Something is definitely wrong and he'll be damned if she finds her own way home when she sounds so upset.

"The Thompson. You know, the hotel?"

What the hell is she doing at a hotel?

"It has a restaurant attached," she rambles defensively. "I swear I wasn't...not after last time. I don't normally—"

She sounds distant, hurt with a dash of angry. He hates to keep cutting her off but her mind is clearly somewhere else. "Stay right where you are. I'm coming to get you."

"What? Oh, no, Matt! You can't! Your date! Just forget I called. It's fine, really."

He rolls his eyes and bites back a curse. "The date isn't as important as you, Sylvie. Don't move. I'm on my way." He throws in a warning just before he hangs up, in case she decides to be stubborn. "If you're not there when I get there then I'm going to be pissed. So do us both a favor and stay put."

He goes back inside and makes his apologies to Sydney. The look on her face tells him he's sealed his fate and there will be no further chances. But with the image of Sylvie waiting for him, all alone, he can't say he cares too much. If that makes him a terrible person then so be it.

* * *

She's pissed. Did she learn nothing from Mark? One pleasant drink with a guy and she's letting him drive her around town — giving up her easy exit. As a paramedic, as someone who dates, as a _woman_, she should know better than that. But he seemed so nice when they met at Molly's. How was she to know a switch would flip the minute they walked into the restaurant?

He kept pawing at her. She asked him to stop, repetitively. He implied she owed him after he paid for her dinner, which he insisted on doing. She never asked him to pay for her. When she refused, he'd a few choice names to call her. It was at that point she dumped her champagne in his lap and punched that jackass in the face.

Men are assholes.

Well, most men.

Her phone was in her hand and dialing as she walked through the restaurant. Matt was the first name that came to mind. He's the safest most reliable person she knows and she supposed that's what she wanted right then. She can still hear the asshole yelling after her as she crosses the lobby. Security is surrounding him now, trying to get him to calm down. This hotel is posh and not accustomed to emotional scenes.

She steps outside and wraps her coat tighter around her. It's been maybe fifteen minutes since she ended the call with Matt. She winces and shakes out her hand. Was that guy's jaw made of steel? She's never punched a man before. Other girls? Sure, once or twice. But never a man. It's oddly empowering.

She glances down the block and sees Matt's truck heading her way. The relief she feels surrounds her, like a safety blanket. A big warm safety blanket.

She stomps toward the truck when it parks and rips the door open before Casey can step out. It's only then that she stops to think about what she looks like. Dress askew, her once perfect side braid is loose, and her make up is probably smudged all to hell. Not to mention the knuckles on her right hand are red and swollen.

"What happened?" He asks immediately as the door closes.

She knows she won't get away with changing the subject. He's a dog with a bone and he won't let it go. "My date decided harassment was a great way to pick up women." She sees rage start to build on his face and places a hand on his shoulder to calm him. "Don't worry I took care of it."

His gaze catches her irritated hand and the corner of his mouth barely ticks upward. "I can see that. Was your thumb inside or outside of your fingers?"

"I know how to punch, Matt," Sylvie tells him with a roll of her eyes.

The amusement in his eyes is so obvious that she can't help but grin in return.

"You are full of surprises, Sylvie Brett. Your car's at Molly's?" He asks. When she nods he looks immensely pleased. "Good. I missed our post game recap last time."

"Me too," she admits softly. That would have been a better way to spend her night than going home with Mark.

"Also, I hate to say this, but maybe Foster or Kidd need to start screening your matches for you," he teases as he pulls out onto the road.

She smacks his shoulder with her sore hand and then whimpers in pain. "_Ow_. Look what you made me do, you jerk."

He snickers and shakes his head at her. "Anybody ever tell you that you can't solve your problems with violence, Brett?"

"Keep talking and I'll show you exactly how I solve my problems, Matt Casey," she says with a mock glare and a crooked smirk.

* * *

"Ice for your hand, Mayweather," Matt says as he places ice wrapped in a towel on top of her injured knuckles.

"And a vodka tonic for the pain," she toasts, lifting her glass and settling back into her chair.

"Uh huh," he says with a muted chuckle. "Anything in that hand feel broken?"

"No, it's good. It's gonna hurt like hell for a while, but no permanent damage," she assures him.

"And you're sure you're okay otherwise?" He asks with concern.

He's glad Sylvie got off a punch on this guy, but he's still tempted to track him down himself. The idea of anyone grabbing at Sylvie like an object or a piece of meat makes him furious.

"I'll admit that it was scary at first, but by the time he started insulting me I was too angry to be scared," she tells him with a frustrated huff. "This online dating thing is _not_ what I thought it would be."

It's exactly what he thought it would be.

"How was your date? I hope she wasn't too upset about being interrupted," Sylvie asks, apologetically.

"Oh, she definitely was," Matt admits honestly. "But there wasn't going to be another date anyway. She was nice enough, but there was no real connection there."

She nods in understanding. "Chemistry is important, that's for sure."

"Online dating isn't going so well for either of us, I guess," he tells her.

"Maybe we need to give the matches a break," she suggests. "Try something else."

"Like what?" He asks. He'd like to say let's just forget online dating and try dating each other, but he'd also like to have some clue as to where Sylvie stood with that first.

Hell, he wasn't even sure where he stood with that until tonight. His date helped like he hoped it would. He can see now that he and Sylvie have something special. It shouldn't have taken him this long to admit it to himself, but he spent most of his time sitting at the restaurant with Sydney thinking of _Sylvie _instead. That means something. It means something _now_ that he doesn't want to keep playing this online dating game. He'd rather skip the dates and go straight to the post game conversations with Sylvie.

How does he tell her that? Does she feel the same way?

Does he keep playing along?

"Oh! I know!" Sylvie exclaims suddenly. "Remember that time I tried to set you up with my spin instructor?"

"You mean the game night where you made me sit next to her in awkward silence all night and then nothing ever came of it? Is that the time you mean?" He asks with a dry grin.

She pauses and blinks at him for a lingering moment. He can see she's thinking, but he has no idea what about. "Okay, so maybe I was a little off base with that set up, but the game night wasn't a total bust," she says, defensively. "I mean at the very least we kicked butt at charades."

"That's true," he agrees. Is she trying to remind him of how well they work together without really even working at it? "Your point?"

"Well, I have single friends and I assume you have single friends, right?"

He does not like where this is going. "Right."

"And we've known each other for a while now. You can't possibly pick a worse date for me than the ones I've had the last few weeks. And I know you pretty well, too. We could try a double blind date! You find someone for me and I'll find someone for you. You know, like what they did in When Harry Met Sally! I mean, except you're not Harry and I'm not Sally, but you get what I mean," she says as she finishes off her vodka tonic.

"You've only had the _one_ of those, yeah?" He asks as he points to the now empty glass.

"Yes! I'm not drunk, Casey. This is a brilliant idea!"

If brilliant means painful then _sure_. He sighs and shakes his head at her. Would she be this determined to date someone else if she was at all interested in him? He hates this plan but it seems important to her.

"When do you want to do this?" He asks, resigned.

"Sunday night?" She suggests. "Is that enough time?"

Is that enough time to find Sylvie the perfect person to date that isn't him? No, but then there would never be enough time for that. "Sounds good."

What the fuck is he doing and _why_ is he doing it? Is he really that desperate for an excuse to spend time with Sylvie outside of the firehouse?

Yes, yes he is.


	4. Level Ground

**A/N: **I'm not quite done with part 5 yet, but I'm posting this anyway. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story! I can't wait to get it finished for you guys! Also, if you're reading on Ao3, I promise you this fic will earn that M rating by the end ;) Just wait for it.

Also, I have now watched every episode of CF that has Sylvie Brett in it. I have yet to watch S1 or S2 but I will get to them. For Casey and Severide, I will make myself watch two Sylvie Brett-less seasons.

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Part 4: Level Ground

* * *

"So you're running from the water,

And the fire's getting hotter.

I think you better find some level ground.

Love is looking for you now."

-"Love Is Looking For You" by Miranda Lambert

* * *

It's the beginning of shift and Sylvie is taking stock of the ambo's supplies, while bemoaning the condition first shift left their rig in, when a hand swiftly swats the back of her head. She turns to find Stella Kidd propped against the Gurney staring her down.

"I swear it wasn't me that stole your edible cookie dough," Sylvie replies urgently. "I mean I'm the one who told Foster you'd notice and tried to stop—"

"All my friends are dumbasses," Stella says with a shake of her head. She freezes as Sylvie's words hit her. "Wait, it was _Foster_ that stole my cookie dough? She let me believe Capp took it! Oh, I'm so gonna—" she cuts off her own sentence and shakes her head to refocus. "That's not why I came over here."

"It's not?"

"No, it's not." Stella picks up a pack of gauze and launches it at Sylvie's head. After it bounces off of her and hits the floor of the ambulance, she explains herself. "You're setting Casey up on a date? Are you stupid?"

"Why is that stupid?" Sylvie asks with a furrowed brow.

Stella huffs and leans toward her. "Because _you_ want to date him. You idiot."

"I—_what? _I don't—He doesn't—We're _friends_," she stutters out.

Stella laughs. "Bullshit. _Bull. Shit_. Maybe you and Matt used to be just _friends_, but that hasn't been the case for a long time now. Since _before_ Kyle came back. We both know it."

"We didn't _both_ know that. That was the problem!" Sylvie tells her in a harsh whisper. "I mean I hadn't even thought of Casey like that until someone _else_ said something and then it actually kind of made sense. But then _just_ when I thought maybe he felt it too he decided to tell me how _good_ Kyle and I were together. Does that sound like something someone who's into you would do?"

"That sounds like something _Casey_ would do cause he's just as much of a dumbass as _you_. I mean, isn't that exactly what you did to him when Gabby showed back up?" Stella says with a pointed lift of her brows.

Her mouth drops open and her mind goes blank. She grapples with finding words. What comes out is less than impressive. "That's different. I mean, Kyle is Kyle. But Gabby is…"

Stella smirks at her. "Let me guess, Gabby is _Gabby_?"

She sighs and lets her shoulders sag. "There's so much more history between Matt and Gabby than me and Kyle is all I mean. And you know, I've kind of been there with Antonio. It's a lot of tug-of-war with yourself, and it takes time. I just...what if Matt hasn't had enough time? If I go there with him, what happens if Gabby comes back for good? What if I go all in with him and then I get left in the dust?"

"Yeah, but what if it all goes right?" Stella asks her. "What if the next time Gabby comes back, he chooses to be with you? What if his history with her doesn't outweigh a _present_ with you?"

"I don't know, Stella," Sylvie says as she chews her bottom lip thoughtfully.

Stella puts both hands on Sylvie's shoulders, reassuringly. "What was it you told me when you and Casey started this whole stupid online dating thing?"

She honestly doesn't remember, but it's most likely coming back to bite her in the ass. When she doesn't answer, Stella answers for her.

"No risk, no reward, Sylvie Brett. Your words."

Yep, it just came back to bite her in the ass. She groans as if she's in pain and shakes her head. "Easier said than done."

"Just...think about it," Stella advises. "Regrets aren't exactly advisable in our line of work."

Regrets. Regrets like spending three months wondering what would have happened if she'd been more insistent with Casey when he assumed she was back with Kyle at Molly's that night. Those kind of regrets. Yeah, she already has those.

Maybe piling up any more of them is a bad idea, but it's a big leap to take. With Casey, especially.

She must miss Stella leaving because the next thing she registers is Casey calling her name and approaching the back of the rig.

She turns toward him and pastes on a cheery smile. "Morning," she greets.

"Are we still on for tomorrow night?" He asks.

She quirks a brow at him with a playful grin. "You mean you actually found me a date?"

He chuckles lightly and nods. "I managed. You?"

"Oddly enough, it wasn't too hard to find a single friend willing to go out with a hero firefighter. Clearly, she doesn't understand how frustrating you hero types can be," Sylvie answers as she hops down from the open ambulance doors.

"Could say the same thing about paramedics. Maybe ones who save a whole team of teenage hockey players after nearly being run over by a bus, _on their off time_?" He asks rhetorically, looking both amused and proud.

She smirks and lifts one shoulder casually. "I guess we're both frustrating."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he tells her with a soft smile. "So, Sunday night?"

"Yes, still on," Sylvie confirms. "Your date and I will meet you at the restaurant."

As always seems to happen with them, they're interrupted by a call and the shift moves on. She barely sees him between calls for the remainder of the day. She tries to convince herself she's not disappointed, but she is.

* * *

It's an unusually busy day and they nearly have one of each type of call they can possibly get. Ambo is busier than they are. He only sees Brett in passing for the rest of the day. By the time he's done with his reports, she's already gone or that's what he assumes because he can't find her anywhere.

"Looking for Brett?" Foster asks from where she sits in the front of the Ambo. The driver's side door is open and she's angled sideways, legs hanging over the seat.

"Yeah, just was hoping to catch her before she left," he explains. Though he has no real reason _why_ he wanted to catch up with her.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure you can tell her tonight," Foster states with a knowing grin. "On your double blind date."

"Right, good point," he says lamely. He turns to leave but Foster calls out to stop him.

"I have to ask," she says as he faces her again. "What are you _thinking_? I mean, good god, Captain, just ask her out already."

"Excuse me?" He asks in surprise.

"I see this online dating thing for what it is, an excuse for you to see her after shift. Don't deny it. I can see it in your face when the two of you do your flirty banter dance," Foster says as she taps a few buttons on her tablet, likely to finish submitting a report.

"Flirty banter dance?" He tries not to grin in amusement but he's pretty certain he fails.

"Uh huh," she says as she steps down from the cab of the rig. "I've been watching it go down for a long time. I know Kyle set you both back and then Dawson coming back didn't help, but I'm _tired_, Casey. I'm _real tired_. Can you ask her out already so I don't have to look at your mooney faces anymore?"

"I don't have a mooney face," he rebuts, halfheartedly.

A bark of laughter escapes Foster as she grabs her duffle and shuts the ambulance door. "Sure, you don't," she snarks. "Look, if you want to keep torturing yourself then that's your business, but don't keep messing around with Brett. She deserves to be happy and settling for scraps like you've both been doing won't allow for that. Ask her out or back off. It's that simple."

"How are you so sure that she _wants_ me to ask her out?" He asks with obvious uncertainty. "The double blind date was her idea."

"I wonder why that is, Captain?" Emily asks archly. "Could it be because she has no clue that you're even remotely interested? Or because just a few weeks ago you went out with your ex-wife? I wonder if maybe those things could possibly effect her self confidence? You've known her longer than me. What do _you_ think?"

He thinks she makes a lot of sense. He remembers vividly how seeing Sylvie and the Chaplain at Molly's sent him into a tailspin. He ended up pushing Sylvie toward Kyle. She said herself that his words had weight. If just seeing her chatting with an ex-boyfriend had an impact on him, it wasn't too much of a leap to think knowing about his night with Gabby might have had an impact on her too.

Jesus, this is messy. All the way around. The mess should be enough to keep him away, but oddly...it isn't. Suspecting that he and Brett might have similar insecurities is actually reassuring in a strange way.

"That dumbstruck look on your face is answer enough," Foster says with a chuckle and a wink as she walks out of the firehouse. "Have fun tonight, Casey. Make good choices!"

Good choices? What exactly is a _good_ choice in this situation? He sure as hell doesn't know. He's just going to have to take it one choice at a time tonight and hope he ends up where he's supposed to be.

* * *

This double date is a bust from the minute they introduce each other. Lauren and Casey have absolutely no connection. The fact that she's relieved by that fills her with guilt. The date Matt brought for her doesn't fair much better. He's making so many bad jokes. As in her dad giving a tour of the farm to a school group level of bad.

Although, Lauren seems to be enjoying them judging by her fit of hysterics from the other side of the table.

Matt catches her gaze with a comical grimace which causes Sylvie to bite down on her lip to stop herself from laughing. She would hate for Jamie to think she's laughing at his jokes.

"...and that's why I don't trust stairs. They're always _up_ to something."

Lauren laughs again, a _genuine_ laugh, while Sylvie forces a chuckle. Matt grins and shakes his head.

"You might want to save some jokes for later," Casey tells him.

"Right, don't want to use up all the good material so early. Good call," Jamie replies.

"That was the _good_ material?" Sylvie asks, teasingly.

Matt laughs, louder than she expects, and smiles brightly at her. She feels that smile like fluttering butterflies in her stomach.

"I think that depends on your definition of good," he tells her.

"Well, I think you're very funny, Jamie," Lauren interjects, batting her eyelashes at him.

Sylvie's eyes narrow on her. She met Lauren at the gym and since meeting her she's watched her flirt with the guys in their spin classes. It always includes batting of her eyelashes.

Lauren's flirting with _Jamie_.

How in her right mind can she choose Jamie over Matt?

Jamie gives Lauren a lingering once over and then turns to Casey. "Matt, can I have a word?"

Matt's brow furrows in confusion. "Uh, sure."

The guys leave the table and Sylvie is struck by nostalgia. This dinner suddenly feels a lot like high school. The boys talking about the girls and the girls talking about the boys in their separate corners.

"Hey, Sylvie," Lauren says as her eyes follow Jamie through the restaurant. "What do you think of Jamie? Do you like him? I mean, you know, _like_ him?"

She almost laughs. This isn't _like_ high school. It _is_ high school.

"Why?" She asks. "Do _you_ like him?"

"I mean, only if you don't," Lauren says hesitantly. There's a pause and then, "You don't, right?"

Sylvie chuckles and then waves a hand toward Jamie's empty seat. "Be my guest. You mean, you really don't like Casey?"

"I mean, he's okay. A little serious, but cute. Clearly more into _you_ than _me_, though," Lauren tells her.

Sylvie startles and then gives Lauren a curious glance. "Are you...serious? I mean, really? You think he's into me?"

Lauren rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Oh please, he's clearly only here because you're here and, judging by how icy you've been to Jamie, I'd say the same goes for you."

"So, you think we should...switch dates?" Sylvie suggests, jokingly.

Lauren's eyes widen eagerly. "Is that allowed?"

A throat clears behind them and they turn to find Matt and Jamie standing next to the table, holding four beers between the two of them.

Matt hands one of the beers he's holding to Sylvie and then gestures to a secluded corner with a tip of his head. She follows his lead. When they stop in the corner he focuses a smile on her that looks equal parts amused and jaded.

"Jamie would like to trade dates," Matt says with a dry chuckle.

"How convenient," Sylvie replies with a smirk. "Lauren just finished asking me if that was allowed."

"Well, she does like his jokes," he states, good humor dancing across his face.

She laughs and instinctively leans in toward him. "Those jokes. I mean what were you thinking picking him out for me?"

"Hey! He's a nice, decent guy. Gimme credit for that at least."

She shrugs and gives him a coy smile. "Partial credit. So, are we letting them switch?"

"Sure, why not? I don't think either of us really found a love connection here, do you?"

"With Jamie or Lauren?" She asks with a crooked grin. "No, I don't think so."

He motions her ahead of him with a sweep of his hand. "Then let's go tell them the good news."

"If they get married do you think they'll invite us to the wedding?"

"They'd be rude not to," he answers. Anyone else would think he's serious, but Sylvie can see sarcasm behind his expression.

* * *

He really honestly thought Jamie and Sylvie might hit it off. He plays hockey with the guy on occasion and he reminds him a lot of The Chaplain. He tells more terrible jokes, but all the rest fits. He's compassionate and kind and hesitant to actually start any fights on the ice. He imagines that's how Sylvie would play hockey, if given the chance.

So he's both surprised and grateful when Sylvie is polite but distant with Jamie. His jokes seem to seal his fate as the evening goes on and then Jamie's interest turns toward Lauren.

Matt should be offended by that or at least a little ticked at him. He isn't. Lauren doesn't hold a candle to Sylvie. She seems sweet, but she must sense that he's got his mind on Sylvie because ten minutes into the date she seems done with him in the most polite way possible.

He should have seen Jamie's request to switch coming, but it was a breach in protocol so it still manages to shock him. He tells him he's fine with it as long as Sylvie is and that he'll talk to her about it first. He feels guilty. She was so excited to try a double blind date and it hasn't exactly gone to plan.

To his relief, she doesn't seem surprised. They tell their dates the good news. Within five minutes, Jamie and Lauren have bailed leaving Matt and Sylvie alone.

"It's a shame really," Sylvie says as she watches them leave. She turns back to him with a smirk. "I was looking forward to observing Matt Casey on a date."

"Yeah?" He asks, pleased and intrigued.

She nods. "Does Matt Casey have certain moves? Or does he improvise? How often does he actually smile on a date? Tonight was going to be an interesting experiment for me if nothing else."

A chuckle escapes him through a full smile and he shakes his head. "How much I smile depends on how much I like my date, and I don't have _moves_ the way you mean. I'm not Kelly."

She laughs and then shakes her head. "No, you're not. You're serious and sincere. That's a swoonworthy tactic all its own. Trust me. You always talk to people like they're the only person in the room. I bet women love that."

"What about you? I've seen the way men throw themselves at your feet. Hell, half the Firehouse has had a crush on you at some point," he says with a teasing grin. "And that's when you're not even trying. You've got to be lethal on a date with all of your genuine interest and compassion. Not to mention—" he stops wondering if he's taking it too far.

But Sylvie rests an elbow on the table and then props her chin in hand, looking curious. "Not to mention?"

"Well, I mean, you've seen yourself, right? You know by now that you're...a looker," he says with an awkward wince.

She blushes despite the awkwardness and smiles shyly at him. "You aren't exactly unattractive yourself."

Tension surrounds them, but not the kind of tension that they usually face at work. This is the kind of tension that warms from the inside out. Finally, after staring at each other for a minute too long, Sylvie changes the subject.

"So, how do you know Jamie? We never really got into that before," she says, clearing her throat.

"He's in my hockey league. Solid player," he tells her. "He doesn't like to fight, though. Too nice for that."

She laughs softly and nods. "And let me guess, that's why you picked him for me?"

"Well, you know, seemed like how you might play," he admits.

"I've actually never played," she tells him. "Been to plenty of games, but I'm more of a casual ice skater. You know the couples skate with hot chocolate kind?"

Yeah, that seems right, he thinks with a knowing smile. Honestly, a couples skate with Sylvie Brett doesn't sound like a bad way to spend a night.

He's not sure what thought has occurred to her but her eyes are misty and her expression has fallen slightly. Just as he starts to ask, she speaks.

"I, um, was actually a little jealous of Otis last year. You know, when he went to that Blackhawks game? It seemed fun."

_Otis_. Now the hurt on her face makes sense. Losing him still hurts every single day. "Yeah," he agrees. "I hate that I missed that."

"Me too," she says with a heartbroken sigh.

The whole evening could go downhill from here if they let it, but Casey has no intention of letting them dwell on their losses.

"I have an idea," Casey says as he flags down the waiter for the check.

Sylvie blinks through the tears he can see gathering in her eyes to give him a questioning glance. "Oh?"

"How do you feel about going on a little adventure?" He asks.

Her eyes shift from him to the waiter before she answers with a watery smile. "Only if we split the check."

He chuckles dryly and shakes his head. He knew that was coming. "Deal."

After they pay, Brett excuses herself to the restroom and while she does he makes a couple of phone calls. When she comes back they agree to leave Sylvie's car at the restaurant and ride together in his truck. He kept their destination a surprise which means Sylvie's bright laugh when they park outside of an ice rink feels extremely gratifying.

"What did you do?" She asks in a playful accusation.

"Just called in a favor or two," he says with a modest shrug.

They hop out of the truck and Matt grabs a bag and a hockey stick out of the back. They meet one of his hockey buddies out front who tells them they have an hour on the ice. Plenty of time. There's another stick and a pair of skates waiting for them inside — for Sylvie.

She beams at him when she sees them and shakes her head. "I can't believe you did this."

He smirks and then nods toward the ice. "Let's go, Brett. Show me what you've got."

* * *

Now that they're in an ice rink she's grateful she decided against a dress. Her jeans are warmer and will cause fewer wardrobe malfunctions should she fall on her ass. Which is highly likely considering she's wearing hockey skates and not figure skates.

Matt's already on the ice, skating around. She can't tell if he's _trying _to show off or not. She still can't believe he went to so much trouble for her. They could have called it a night after dinner, considering the double date was over, but instead he got them private time at an ice rink.

No one had ever made that kind of gesture for her before. That had to mean something. Didn't it?

"Okay," she says as she gingerly heads out onto the ice. "Fair warning, I'm not used to hockey skates so you may be taking your life into your hands by sharing the ice with me."

"Well," he says with mock seriousness. "At least I know you're a trained medical professional."

"And some people say you're not funny," she informs him with a weak glare.

"Shows what they know." He smirks. "I'm hilarious."

She rolls her eyes at him affectionately. She's really enjoying this version of Matt Casey. Charming and funny but always authentic. He's different than Captain Matthew Casey who constantly has a bit of a professional wall up. Not that she blames him. He's in a leadership role. That comes with the job. It just makes spending time with him when that wall is down mean that much more.

"Alright," she starts as she takes the hockey stick he's holding out to her. "How do I do this?"

"Lean your weight on your back leg, position the puck in the middle of the blade," he instructs. He nods and grins when she adjusts accordingly. "Good. Now, before you take your shot, let me offer you some advice. Sweep the puck forward and then flick your wrist at the last second. All the power is in your wrist. When you're done make sure the blade is pointed in the direction you want to shoot. Make sense?"

"Makes sense." But when he doesn't continue, she looks up at him in surprise. "That's it? That's all I get?"

He nods again, looking absolutely entertained by her struggle. "That's the basics."

"Oh god, this is gonna suck," she declares with a nervous laugh.

"Everybody has to start somewhere," Casey teases.

She takes a deep breath and then goes for it. She sweeps and then flicks, keeping her blade facing the goal. The puck slides to a slow stop just in front of the goal.

"Not quite enough power," Matt critiques gently. "But not bad." He throws down another puck. "You wanna try again?"

Her eyes narrow on the goal with a determined nod. "More power. Got it."

She knows Matt's positioned her closer to the goal to make the shot easier on her, but that doesn't stop her excitement when the puck makes it in on the second shot. She yells out in surprise and drops the stick to the ice. She starts to rush forward to hug him, but in her hurry she forgets there's no toe pick on her skates. She's about to fall and fall hard.

She closes her eyes and mentally prepares for the impact, but it never comes. Instead, arms tighten around her waist and her chest collides against something solid. With her eyes still closed she grabs fistfuls of soft thick fabric to hold herself upright while she finds her footing again. The arms that went around her keep her steady and balanced the entire time.

Her eyes open into Matt's and she breathes in sharply. His eyes drift and then linger on her lips. Her heart is hammering against her ribs and she's absolutely certain that's not from her near fall. Their faces are inches away from each other. One more move from either of them could result in their lips brushing together. She's so tempted to close the distance. She's not let herself imagine what it might be like to kiss him.

Not until now.

She swallows thickly and then severs their eye contact. She loosens her grip on his coat and then smoothes out the wrinkles caused by her hands. "Sorry, about that. I told you sharing the ice with me might be dangerous."

His soft laugh is accompanied by a warm breath that fans out across her skin. "You definitely warned me. That's for sure. At least we didn't fall."

Not physically anyway.

Falling _emotionally_ may be a totally different story.

"Yeah, at least," she agrees.

She clears her throat and anxiously tucks a fly away hair behind her ear. She pulls away from Casey and then turns to pick the hockey stick back up. She feels Casey's eyes following her every movement.

Once she's facing him again she says, "Okay, tell me the basics again. I want to get this puck shooting thing down."

* * *

Sylvie Brett is a determined firecracker. He knew it before tonight. He's seen it at work, but seeing it in a personal setting is new. He likes it. He likes it so much that he almost let himself kiss her.

Now, that he's dropping her at her car he wishes he had. The night's over and he doesn't want it to be. If he'd kissed her then maybe he'd have an excuse to keep her out longer.

She focuses a beaming smile at him. She's been smiling more and more the last few weeks and he's enjoyed watching her spirits rebuild.

"That was fun tonight, Matt. Thank you," she states as he stops the truck. "Never had a whole ice rink to myself before."

"Yeah," he replies, smiling back at her just as brightly. "I had fun too. You've got the makings of a pretty great hockey player."

She laughs and shoves his shoulder lightly. "Hell no. Are you kidding? I can barely stay upright on hockey skates. Let alone play a hockey game in them. That's sweet of you to say though." She opens the door and hops out of the truck. She turns to face him before shutting the door. "See you next shift, Matt."

He nods and waves, wishing that wasn't a whole twenty-four hours away. "Next shift."

The door shuts behind her but he waits until she's safely in her car and pulling away from the curb. Tonight, he essentially got to go on a date with Brett without actually asking her out. In the past he'd doubted whether crossing that line with Brett was a good idea. He wondered if the notion in his head could possibly pan out in reality.

He isn't doubting or wondering any more. Tonight was the most fun he'd had on a date in a long time. Spending time with Sylvie, alone, feels _right_. He wants to keep spending time with her. So, if trying with Sylvie is taking a chance, then it's a chance worth taking.

The only thing left for him to do is put action behind his thoughts. That's the part that trips him up. _Everytime_.

He arrives at the apartment to find Severide and Stella settled on the couch watching an old movie. Pizza and beer is sitting on the coffee table.

"Hey," Kelly says as Matt walks through the door. "How was the double date?"

"Only a partial disaster," he answers honestly. "Turns out Jamie was more interested in the woman Brett brought along for me than he was Brett. We barely even made it through dinner."

Stella looks thoughtful and then gives him a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. "Dinner should have been over a while ago. Where you'd go after?"

He shrugs in an attempt at being vague. "Oh, you know, just hung out with Brett a while."

Kelly and Stella share a smug look that rankles him a little. He hates how everyone seemed to know what he felt before he did.

"Just hung out, huh? Where'd you go? We didn't see you at Molly's," Severide questions.

"That's because we didn't go to Molly's," he says as he grabs a beer off of the coffee table.

"Huh. Hanging out after work somewhere that isn't Molly's after having dinner together. That sure sounds like a date to me, but let me get a second opinion," Stella says facetiously. "Kelly, can we get a verdict on this?"

"Definitely a date," he agrees.

"Uh, no cause we split the check," Matt informs them confidently. "Not a date if you split the check."

"Oh, whatever, that's an outdated rule," Stella says with an eye roll.

"Outdated or not, that's still the rule," Matt says as he continues on to his room. "Thanks for the beer!"

He shuts his door and changes clothes, all the while staring at his phone. He's debating texting Sylvie. Just to check in, he tells himself. To make sure she got home safe. No big deal. Nothing out of the ordinary. But every text he starts feels wrong, somehow. Why would he check in with her now when he never has before?

It would be awkward. Maybe show his hand a little too much. He turns his phone face down on his bedside table. Out of sight, out of mind.

He spends the next day completing a quick kitchen remodel — finishing up the cabinets and installing the appliances — which successfully distracts him from Brett. He's too tired when the work is done to want to do anything other than shower and sleep.

The next morning, he prepares himself to deal with his new awareness of his feelings for Brett in the context of the Firehouse as he gets ready for his shift. He's known the feelings were changing and growing majority of the time it was happening, but he didn't know where those changes were leading him. Going into work feels different now. She's one of the things he's looking forward to most at Firehouse 51. Trying to keep his mind off of her for twenty four hours was more difficult than it should have been.

He missed her.

She's not in when he gets in, but he shows up a little earlier than his normal routine. He changes in the locker room, grabs a quick bite to eat, and then makes a beeline for his quarters. They're only a half hour into shift when she shows up at his door. She leans against the door frame and grins at him, like she's keeping some sort of enticing secret to herself.

"Morning, Captain," she greets, grin never faltering.

"Brett," he answers, looking up from his stack of first shift personnel requests.

"I'm assuming you haven't checked the dating app yet," she says as she bites her bottom lip. She looks excited but nervous which has him very interested in what she might be trying to tell him.

"No, I haven't looked since Sydney," he says with a grimace.

"Well, you should have another look. It might be worth your time." Her eyes are as bright as her smile while she speaks and he can't look away. Eventually, she drops her gaze — studying her shoes instead of his face. "Anyway, I've gotta go make sure first shift didn't leave the rig a mess. Just, you know, give the app one more shot...if you want."

They exchange silent waves as she walks away. He manages to wait till the bunk room door closes before reaching for his phone and opening the app. It takes him a minute to correlate what he's seeing to what Sylvie might have been implying, but then he taps to see his recent matches.

At the top of the list is a smiling blonde that he knows all too well. Just so there's no risk of him imagining it, he taps her photo to see her profile. Sure enough, it details a Sylvie who's a paramedic with the CFD. He laughs and wonders why it took so long. He hadn't even considered the possibility of being matched with her early on, but now it seems like it was inevitable.

But why wouldn't she just tell him that? She was being very mysterious earlier. As if she were inviting him in on a joke. Was she challenging him? Maybe testing the waters to find out his reaction?

He taps the speech bubble on her profile and decides to find out. He'll play along with this match scenario just to see how it unfolds.

He decides to start as if they're strangers.

"_Hi, Sylvie. I see we've been matched. How are you?"_

Lame but then he's never been the smoothest and that is what he would say to any other match. He sends it before he can change his mind. He shouldn't be this nervous. He's ninety percent confident that she'll reply, but still…

What if she doesn't?

He doesn't have to question it for long. Barely ten minutes later, he gets a reply.

"_Hello, Matt. I'm great. I hope you are too. I see you're a firefighter. Who would have guessed they'd match a paramedic and a firefighter, huh?"_

He chuckles and taps out a reply.

"_Yeah, who would have guessed? And I am great, aside from a few misfires with previous matches."_

"_Previous matches? How long have you been online dating?" _

"_Just a few weeks. A friend made me sign up. She's persistent. Never would have left me alone if I didn't."_

"_Oh, one of those. I can relate. I have this one friend who would never put himself out there if it wasn't for me. Maybe you needed a little friendly shove."_

He smiles warmly at his phone screen as he replies. "_Yeah, maybe I did. What about you? How's it been going for you?"_

"_Not great. Had a lot of duds. Do you think our luck might change anytime soon?" _

He can only hope. "_Didn't have a whole lot of luck before online dating so it's hard to say."_

"_Tell me about it. I have a bad habit of trying to make things work that shouldn't."_

Damn, he's never seen his relationship history put so plainly or accurately before.

"_Throw in not letting things work that should and we might be the same person," _he sends in reply.

"_Well, if we've been matched we better not be the same person. That would be awkward."_

He grins and shakes his head. "_Not the most awkward of matches I've had, if I'm honest."_

"_Oh yeah?" _

"_Yeah, you ever called a date by the wrong name before?"_

"_Can't say I have. Why?"_

"_Did that a few weeks back. Now, that was awkward."_

"_As awkward as having a guy cry on your shoulder about his ex in the middle of dinner?"_

"_No, I guess not."_

"_Ha, I win."_

"_At least it wasn't until I talked her into seeing me again and then ditched her halfway through dinner to go help a good friend." _She'll know exactly what night he's talking about. He should be hesitant to tell her, but not seeing her face to face makes it easier somehow.

"_Yikes, okay, you win."_

"_Is that really a win, though?"_ He replies, smirking at his screen.

"_Fair point. Out of curiosity, what name did you call her?"_

Oh shit. _Shit_. He walked right into that one. How does he walk out of it? Should he walk out of it? Maybe he should just admit it. He could use it as fuel to finally act on what he wants. As he debates replying, a call comes in.

Saved by the bell.

For the time being.

The rest of the shift is one call stacked against another. Sylvie flashes him little soft smiles every time their eyes meet and he can't help but send them right back at her. Every glance has him leaning more toward spilling his guts than ever before. He thinks about the night before last, their post game nights at Molly's, their late night conversation in the bunk room, and that almost kiss…

Everything has happened on it's own without any help from him. It's been natural. _Fun_. Light. The messages they traded earlier plague him too. He's tried to force other relationships to work that shouldn't just like he told her and now, _just like he told her_, he's trying to keep something from working that does.

Why is he trying to keep it from working? It makes no sense to fight it. Not anymore. There's no time this shift to stop and address it now, and he wouldn't want to disrupt the flow of the shift anyway. So, he'll wait. He'll wait until the end of shift and then take his shot.

But he's not putting it off any longer.

He won't.

* * *

Matt hasn't messaged her back. She knows it's been a busy shift but does that mean something? Is it a bad sign? She doesn't know and that's the worst part. She does know that she needs to stop checking her phone. People are starting to get suspicious.

"Alright, what's with you, Mopey?" Hermann asks as he comes back from changing into his civilian clothes. "You've been strange for most of the shift. First, you were smug and giddy and then suddenly you're distracted and frowning. Is this about Casey? Did he screw it up already?"

"Screw it up?" Her brow furrows. "Screw what up?"

"Really?" He asks with a dry look. "Do you two think you're actually fooling anyone? You're obviously using this online dating scam as a cover for dating each other."

Not exactly true, but her reasoning did involve Casey so she doesn't really have any room to argue. "Casey and I aren't dating."

"Maybe that's true," Hermann says with a suspicious gaze. "But there's something there. I can see it. He looks at you differently now."

That last sentence is all it takes to perk her up. She sits up straighter and grins bashfully. "He does?"

He looks bewildered by her surprise. "Yeah, are you telling me you haven't noticed?"

"I'll be right back," Sylvie tells him, distractedly, as she stands and leaves the locker room — still in uniform.

She searches the firehouse for Matt, suddenly feeling motivated to say the things she's kept to herself for so long, but she can't find him. She tries the common room, the bunks, and his quarters, but he's not in any of those places. Finally, she tries the bullpen and catches him leaving Boden's office.

He stops and gives her a hesitant crooked smile.

"Hey," she says as she takes several steps closer to him, deliberately meeting his eyes.

He keeps walking until he's standing directly in front of her. They're so close that the toes of their shoes almost touching. "Sylvie," he declares.

She feels a warm tingle in her stomach at the sound of her first name leaving his lips.

"Yeah?" She asks.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "No, that's the answer to your last question. In the app?"

Her eyebrows lift as high as they can go and her mouth drops open in shock. After a moment she closes her mouth and shakes her head at herself, thinking she's misunderstanding him. "But my last question was about the name you called your date."

"Yeah, and the answer to that question...is Sylvie. I called her Sylvie," Matt confesses with a nervous grin.

"Oh," she responds before she feels a smile form on her face. "That's _interesting_."

Matt's smile matches hers and she can see laughter in his eyes. "My date didn't think so."

"I bet not," Sylvie says with a snicker.

His eyes drift from her to the empty Blue Office and then back again. He clears his throat and points to the open door. "Can we, uh, talk — in private?"

"Sure, yeah," she agrees immediately.

He motions her ahead of him with one hand while anxiously scratching the back of his neck with the other. Once inside, Matt closes the door behind them. The blinds are still open so they both maintain their distance to keep from clueing in the whole bullpen.

"Brett—_Sylvie_," Matt starts, reluctantly. "I have talked to you about your dates, sat a few tables away from you while you were on them, argued with you before them, but I haven't done what I've really been wanting to do."

She tries not to sound as hopeful as she feels. "And what's that?"

"I haven't been the guy _on_ the date with you." He looks adorably uncertain as he goes on. "And, you know, since we matched and all I thought it might be a good opportunity to—to…" he sentence trails off and she gives him a sympathetic smile.

"To _be_ that guy?" She finishes for him.

"Exactly," he says, swallowing hard. "So, what do you say? Would you like to have dinner together?" He grins weakly as he adds, "Alone?"

She turns and closes the blinds on the windows first, then the door. "Would I like to have dinner with Matt Casey?" She repeats. Once the blinds are fully closed she faces him again. "Alone?"

He's been tracking her every movement. She knows because there is no feeling in the world like the dedicated focus of Matt Casey's stare. Her eyes meet his while she chews the inside of her cheek in thought. She knows her answer but she wants to let this moment sink in. She never truly thought they'd get here.

Hearing him ask her to dinner is affirmation she never thought she'd get. She convinced herself that she's been projecting or reading too much into the fact that Matt is just a nice guy. But she was wrong and that relief washes over her in a warm joyful wave. It's a wave that she can't keep from colliding with the shore. It's bound to overflow at any moment. So, before she can overthink it or talk herself out of it, she launches herself at him.

Her arms go around his neck and her lips crash into his earnestly. To his credit, he only freezes for a split second. She can hardly blame him. She didn't give him much warning. But when that split second ends, his arms band around her waist and his lips meet hers movement for movement. And it's just as she suspected the other night on the ice. Matt Casey is an _excellent_ kisser.

This is a first kiss so she can tell that he's trying to keep it gentle and soft, but she can feel the hunger in his restraint. He's been wanting this as much as she has. He removes an arm from her waist so he can bring a hand up to cup the side of her face. His hands are covered in calluses but they're extremely gentle with her. She loves it.

When they pull apart for air, the backs of his fingers trace up her cheek bone. His nose bumps against hers and an affectionate smile over takes his face. God, she loves it when he smiles. What can she do to make that happen more often?

"I'm gonna take that as a yes," he says with a hoarse chuckle.

"You should take that as a hell yes," she amends with a smile so wide her cheeks are starting to hurt.

"How's tomorrow night sound?" He asks, looking much more at ease than before.

She forces an exaggerated frown. "Like too far away."

He raises his eyebrows at her while his eyes dance in amusement. "That's fair. Counter offer?"

She nods, allowing herself to lean into Matt's hold. "I'm listening."

"Tonight," he states, confidently.

"Well, I suppose if that's the _best_ you can do," she replies, trying to bite back a smile. "Then I'll take it."

"Then it's a date," he promises. "I could pick you up? Or we could meet if you're more comfortable—whatever you want to—"

She lunges forward presses a quick and chaste kiss to his lips to shut him up. "Pick me up," she insists with a soft smile. "I prefer to meet _strangers_. I didn't trust any of those other bozos. I trust _you_."

He snorts through a short laugh. "Bozos?"

"Do you want a date with me or not?" She asks him with a cheeky grin.

"You're absolutely right. Bozos is a totally normal word that non-twelve year olds use all the time," he teases.

She laughs and slaps his arm. "_Jerk_. We should get out of here before the house starts talking any more than they already are."

"Fine, but tonight. Seven o'clock?" He clarifies.

She nods. "We're on."

"You leave first," he says, reluctantly releasing her waist and nodding toward the door. "I'll follow in a minute or two."

"Yes, sir, Captain Casey, sir," she replies with a mock salute and a smirk.

He closes his eyes and winces, but he doesn't look like he's in pain. She's never seen that expression before. She's not quite sure what it is.

"Okay, you need to get out of here before I reel you back in and we end up in here for another few minutes," Casey says as he avoids looking her in her eyes.

It takes her until his eyes find hers again to truly understand what he means. She's seen enough fires through smoked out windows to recognize an inferno when she sees one. Casey is definitely burning.

"Oh," she says as she nods and reaches for the door. "_Oh._ Got it. I'll see you tonight."

He nods wordlessly and closes his eyes again.

She presses her lips together to hide her giddy smile while she steps out of the blue office. A lot of new things have been happening between her and Casey recently but nothing quite like that has happened yet. Sylvie has a feeling things between them are about to get a lot more..._heated_.

Now to go home, rest, and then pick out a killer outfit.

Matt Casey hasn't seen anything yet.


	5. Maybe

**A/N:** I finished this part the night before last and I was going to wait to post it until I had at least half of part 6 finished but then a few less than welcoming members of the CF fandom told me to "go write more Barbie/Casey fanfic" on twitter (Barbie being Brett and meant to imply that she's an airhead I guess but jokes on them cause Barbie has like 1000 careers and she rocks at all of them) and here I am. Writing/Posting more Barbie/Casey fanfic as instructed. ;)

As usual I want to thank katertots for all her help and inspiration! She really helped me with this chapter. I hate writing first dates so this one came extremely slowly. Look for 1-2 more parts to this story. I'm hoping for one but, considering I've barely started part 6, I'm not really sure what all will be in it yet, lol.

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

Part 5: Maybe

* * *

"Maybe you've been wearing,

The shoes that someone else,

Is wearing now.

Maybe you're swearing forever,

Might have already run out."

-"Love Is Looking For You" by Miranda Lambert

* * *

_Fuck_. What the hell was he thinking?

_Tonight_? He promised to take Sylvie Brett out on a _date_ tonight? How is he supposed to come up with a plan with just eleven hours notice?

He's so screwed.

But he was, still is, in shock. Not only had he managed to ask, but she'd said yes. Not just yes. _Hell yes_.

Maybe — just _maybe_ — that made him a little crazy.

It's been a while since he's been on an _intentional_ date with someone he already knows he's attracted to. Not only that but this isn't someone he met at random. This is _Sylvie_.

He tugs on the collar of his white Captain shirt and swallows thickly. The pressure is on. This date cannot go as badly as the last four he's been on. (Though, the double date turned out a lot better than he thought it would — once his date _left_.)

He shakes his head at himself as he changes clothes. He's going to be hopeless at this. He needs help. He changes quickly and then wanders around the firehouse to see if anyone lingered behind. As luck would have it, Foster is still submitting a report.

He clears his throat to get her attention. She looks up from the armchair in the common room with a raised brow.

"Anything I can help you with, Captain?"

"Uh, well," he says as he takes a few steps toward her. "Remember how you told me to talk to Sylvie?"

She takes in his awkwardness and reluctant shifting of his weight and probably the remains of Sylvie's lip color and smiles slowly. "You asked her out, didn't you?"

He lifts a shoulder with feigned carelessness and then scratches the back of his neck. He feels embarrassingly like an unsure teenager, but even so he can't help but smile as he speaks, "it might have come up. Yeah."

"I can't believe that little tramp didn't tell me!" Foster exclaims as she jumps up from her chair. "When? Where? What time?"

"Tonight at seven, and as for where? Well, I have no damn clue," he admits with a nervous exhale. "I should have stuck with tomorrow night but she was so excited and then that turned out to be contagious so I—"

"Oh, trust me, I know all about Sylvie's enthusiasm being contagious. If not for that enthusiasm I never would have set foot in Molly's," Foster tells him with a laugh.

"I have no idea where to take her."

Emily narrows her eyes on him thoughtfully. "Well, what did you do on that double date? She seemed to be floating on air after that."

"Hockey," he answers, with a doubtful expression.

"Wow," Emily says with a smirk. "She tried to understand hockey for you? In that case, I really doubt there's anything you could do to screw this up. You know, as long as you don't turn into a douchebag between now and seven o'clock tonight."

"As comforting as that is, it's not exactly helpful," he replies with a sigh.

"That's fair," Foster replies with a chuckle. "Oh! She likes music! All I hear is her humming along with radio in the rig day in and day out. We live in _Chicago_. The music scene is on _point_. There's gotta be some kind of live music _somewhere_ tonight."

"Live music," he repeats. "Okay, I can work with that." He remembers sitting in Boden's living room listening to records more than once. He may have an idea of who to seek out next. "Thanks, Foster."

"Always here to support Team Sylvie," Emily says with a nod and a mock salute. "Just FYI, if you hurt her I'll hurt _you_. Copy?"

He blinks at her in surprise and then nods quickly. "Copy that."

"Good, I'm gonna submit this report and then call it a day. Good luck, Casey!"

He heads back to the bullpen and finds Boden still in his office. He knocks on the open door. Boden, now in plain clothes, looks up from his desk expectantly.

"Casey, what can I do for you?"

"Well, Chief, uh...let's say a guy had a very important date tonight and he wanted to really make a show of it and the woman in question likes music more than the average person. Where would that guy take her for some quality live music?" Casey asks with an overly friendly smile. "I figured you'd be the person to ask. I've seen your record collection."

"Does this have anything to do with you pulling Brett into the Blue Office earlier?" Boden asks with a knowing expression and a barely there grin.

"I—um—didn't know you saw that," Matt says, clearing his throat to hide the panic.

"There's not much that I don't notice about my Firehouse, Casey. That includes the people in it."

Casey starts to answer and tell him a short version of what he's been going through the last few weeks but Boden holds up a hand to stop him.

"You know what? It's probably best you don't actually answer that," Boden says, the corners of his mouth twitching minutely upward. "If I were looking for some damn fine live music, I would take my date to The Green Mill. Live music every night, no tickets needed, just a cover charge."

He breathes a sigh of relief and bobs his head up and down in anxious gratitude. "I knew you'd be the man to ask. Thank you, Chief."

"Happy to help," he tells him. "Hope you two have fun and don't let it become a headache for the whole house. Not that I know, or want to know, who you're taking out tonight. Not until there's something official to report. Understood?"

"Understood," Matt replies dutifully. "See you next shift, Chief."

Alright, so dinner and then The Green Mill and then they'd wing it from there. That's a solid plan if he says so himself. He just needs to decide where to go for dinner. He wants somewhere quiet but lowkey. He enjoys talking to Sylvie and he'd like to be able to do that over dinner.

He heads back to the apartment to rest up before he has to start getting ready, and crosses paths with Severide on his way to OFI.

"How was shift?" He asks.

"Busy, but it had it's bright spots."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"I...um, I have a date tonight."

Severide's eyebrows shoot upward and he smiles easily. "Is this a chick from whatever app you're signed up with or Brett?"

Casey smirks and chuckles. "Both, actually. The app matched us today, and—I don't know—I thought why the hell not?"

Severide punches Casey's arm with a grin. "Well, since it's Brett, I'll make sure I stay out of your way tonight then."

Casey's brow furrows. "What? You don't have to do that. It's a first date."

"Yeah, but it's you and _Brett_. You two've been dancing around this thing for so long that an explosion is imminent."

He thinks about Sylvie calling him by his official title earlier and how it affected him and thinks Severide may be onto something. "It's still a first date and I'm not expecting anything other than dinner and live music. You really don't have to stay away."

"If nothing happens then nothing happens, but I'd rather _not _be here just in case," Severide replies with a chuckle. "See you later, man."

"Yeah, see ya," Matt calls to Severide's back.

He has no plans or expectations after drinks at The Green Mill. Severide's gesture didn't change that, but it did plant some very dangerous thoughts and images in his head. Ones that aren't likely to go away anytime soon.

He _might_ be in over his head with this one, but it's been a while since he's felt overwhelmed by a woman. He definitely doesn't hate it.

* * *

"_You have a date with Casey? Bitch, why didn't you tell me?!"_

How did _Stella_ hear about that?

"_Brett! You held out on me! You have a date with Casey?"_

Now Emily too?

It's not that she was trying to keep it a secret (because it's impossible for her to keep one) but she was hoping to avoid telling them until after the date. Just in case a date with Matt Casey isn't everything she wants it to be. If things with Matt fall apart then she doesn't want to get anyone's hopes up. (Aside from her own, that is, but it's already too late for her.)

Oh well, can't avoid it now.

She switches over to their group text to answer both of them at once.

"_Yes, I have a date with Casey. I didn't tell either of you because I didn't want to jinx it."_

She bites her lip as she debates giving them more details. Eventually, she can't hold it in anymore so she spills.

"_I also may have possibly sort of...kissed him. Like a big time swing for the fences kind of kiss...maybe."_

"_Holy shit."_

"_Oh. My. God. I'm coming over right now."_

"_Me too, and I'm bringing the good wine from behind the bar at Molly's."_

"_Wait, wait, wait. We just got off shift! Can I sleep first?"_

Stella is the first to reply to that. "_Oh, right. Good idea."_

"_Especially cause you probably won't be getting much sleep tonight." _Foster replies with a winking emoji. "_Stella and I will be over at 4 for all the deets and to help you pick out a KILLER dress. Sleep well, partner!"_

She did not want to think about Foster's implications. Yes, Matt had a very interesting reaction to her earlier but that did not automatically mean anything more than dinner and drinks. They're going on a first date. That's all it is. A _first_ date.

For now, she needs to sleep. Hopefully, her less than innocent thoughts about Matt won't keep her up for too long. She's not counting on it, though.

She only tosses and turns for a couple of hours before drifting off. She wakes up just before two in the afternoon and wanders downstairs to find Cruz making a sandwich.

"Hey," he greets. "You doing anything tonight?"

She hesitates and then grins coyly. "Actually, I have a date. One that I'm really excited about."

She clamps her teeth down on her bottom lip to keep from saying anymore. It's on the tip of her tongue to gush about Matt, but she's not sure how Cruz will react so she swallows the words.

"Gotcha, so you're cool if Chloe stays over?" He asks.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be out most of the night anyway," she answers with a shrug. "Stella and Emily are coming over later to help me get ready."

"Damn, it's _that_ big of a date?" Cruz asks her.

She takes in a deep nervous breath, but can't stop her smile. "Yep."

Cruz holds out a fist with a congratulatory smirk. She bumps it with hers and chuckles.

"Good for you, Brett," he tells her with genuine happiness. "Knock him dead. I'm gonna finish lunch and then get out of your hair before Foster and Kidd get here for the spa day."

"They're bringing wine so that's probably a good idea," Brett replies, laughingly.

He winces. "Yeah, maybe I'll just take my lunch to go in case they show up early."

"Or you could hide out in your room," Brett helpfully suggests. "And I'll tell them you're not here."

He snaps his fingers and then points a finger at her. "Even better."

Sylvie laughs and shakes her head as Cruz hurriedly retreats. It's a good thing he did too because not ten minutes after he leaves there's a knock at the door. She opens to find Kidd and Foster, with wine bottles in hand — nearly two hours early.

"We couldn't stay away any longer," Stella says as she pushes her way past Sylvie. "I have to know the dirt."

"I have been pushing for this since almost my first day at 51 and, now that the day has come, I'm not waiting a minute longer," Emily agrees. "Start talking. _Now_."

Brett rolls her eyes and shuts the door. "It's been building for a while I think. Since this whole online dating thing started. But — I mean I haven't asked or anything — I'm almost certain it was the double date that really did it. I swore he almost kissed me that night and now...I know I was totally right."

"Did I hear right?" Emily asks. "Did you try hockey for him?"

Sylvie blushes and nods. "I did."

"Oh, yeah, then that's definitely what did it," Stella concurs with a nod as she pulls down a wine glass. "How did the Captain finally ask?"

She joins Stella in the kitchen and pulls down two more glasses. "He said he wanted to be the guy on the date with me and not the guy I talk to about them after they're done. Basically. I'm paraphrasing a little."

"And you said?" Foster asks.

Sylvie presses her lips together to stop herself from grinning and replies, "Nothing. I kissed him instead."

"Yes!" Foster yells as she rushes Sylvie with a hug. "That's my partner! Going after what she wants and making it happen! You finally jumped his bones!"

"I wouldn't say jumped really—"

Stella's eyes narrow on her as she interrupts. "Was he expecting it?"

"No, definitely not."

"Then you jumped him," Kidd declares decisively.

"Okay, maybe I jumped him," she admits with a bright smile. "And it was pretty wonderful."

"Which means what you wear on this date is _vital_. This time we want him to jump you," Emily insists as she grabs the corkscrew from Stella and opens the bottle of wine. "Let's get buzzed and doll you up, sister."

They pour three glasses of wine and then Foster and Kidd push her toward her bedroom. She grins as she lets them. Today is just another reminder that her friends are the _best_ friends she could ever ask for.

* * *

Does he look like a dork if he shows up promptly on time? Should he be just a few minutes late? No, he decides, that's not him. He likes to be on time and prepared. He's not pretending to be anyone other than the guy Sylvie already knows.

He walks into the building holding the purple flowers he impulsively purchased on his way over and within a few minutes is knocking on Brett's door.

Cruz answers and rears back a couple of steps with a shocked expression.

"_You're_ the date?" He asks.

It's only then that Matt remembers Brett and Cruz used to date. He gives him an apologetic glance and asks quietly, "Yeah, sorry. Is that cool with you? Should I have checked?"

"Oh! No, it's not—that door is definitely closed. Believe me, it's cool with me, but...are you sure you should be doing this with Sylvie?" Cruz asks in concern.

He's not sure what Cruz is worried about. It can't be dating within the Firehouse. Nearly every single person at 51 has broken that rule. "What do you mean?"

"Casey, I am all for you moving on from Dawson," Cruz starts reluctantly, his voice growing quieter. "But if the woman who comes next is always going to be second best then maybe you'd better find someone else. Brett deserves to be first. It wouldn't be fair to either of you."

There's a threatening edge to his tone and Casey knows Joe is trying to look out for Sylvie, but surely he doesn't think he has to shield her from _him_?

"Joe, I have no intention of making anyone second best. I wouldn't risk my friendship with Sylvie if I did," Matt confesses, trying to assure him.

Joe still looks doubtful and begins to say something else when Sylvie pops up at his shoulder, cutting him off.

"Oh good! You're right on time," she says brightly.

Cruz steps out of the way and quirks a brow at Sylvie. "You didn't tell me that Casey was _the_ date."

She shrugs and gives him an overly sweet smile. "I didn't see how it would matter." Joe gives her a dry look as she turns away from him, obviously not buying her answer for a second. Sylvie points to the forgotten flowers in his hand. "Are those for me?"

"Uh, yeah," he greets with a smirk. He hopes she remembers the last time they exchanged purple flowers or this joke is about to go bust. "I thought you could take them to work and hide them under Mouch's bunk."

She laughs and covers her face with her hands, blushing slightly in embarrassment. "Oh god, you remember that."

"Hard to forget," he tells her with a chuckle.

She accepts the flowers from him with a glowing smile. "For me too. Let me just put these in some water. I'll be right back."

She shoots Joe a warning look as she leaves them alone again and he holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. But as soon as she's out of earshot Cruz steps toward him again.

"She's not the kind of woman you use as a temporary replacement for someone else. I just...I really hope you know that," Joe tells him with a resigned sigh.

Matt doesn't know how to reply to that. It never occurred to him that someone on the outside might see it that way. Before he manages to find any words, Sylvie rushes back to them. She fastens the buttons on her coat and then pats Joe's arm as she walks passed him to the door.

"See you later," she promises.

"Yeah, you two have fun," he replies, with a forced cheerful tone.

The door shuts behind them and as they walk to the elevator Sylvie sends him a concerned glance. "Did I walk up on something just now?"

"No, not really," he lies. "Just Cruz looking out of you, that's all."

She bites her bottom lip and then nods. "Sorry about that. We've been through a lot together this year. It's not been easy adjusting to being just...two people in a three person apartment. It's made us both a bit more protective of each other, you know?"

He doesn't really know, but he does know what a constant reminder of Otis feels like and he knows how it's forced him to hold onto to the people he cares about a little more tightly. "Yeah, I can imagine."

"Change of topic," she announces with a cleansing breath as she presses the call button for the elevator. "What's the plan?"

"Dinner," he answers, but then grins mysteriously at her. "And then a surprise."

"Oh, a little bit of intrigue," she says as she rubs her hands together eagerly. "I like it. Can I have a hint?"

"Let's just say, you took an interest in something I like last time so I thought I would return the favor," he replies, vaguely, as the elevator doors open. He holds them and gestures for her to lead. "After you."

"Thank you," she says with a nod as she steps inside the car. He follows as she gives him a thoughtful narrowed gaze. "So, returning the favor, meaning...something I like this time. I'm going to figure this out."

He chuckles. "Feel free to try."

He's pretty sure she won't guess it. He turns out to be right. She fires guesses at him the entire ride to the restaurant. Some ridiculous, some serious. He ends up laughing more than he's laughed in a long time. He picked a quiet place for dinner and thankfully the restaurant unintentionally helped him out by placing them in a corner booth. He holds his breath as Sylvie unbuttons her coat and slides it off of her shoulders. He's seen her outfits on previous dates, but none of those prepared him for this one.

It's a long sleeve green wrap dress that sparkles in the light. The neckline of the wrap dips fairly low yet still seems modest on Sylvie. It's a short dress that she's coordinated with knee high black boots and fishnet tights. Paired with her creamy complexion and golden hair, she reminds him of a daydream.

Their knees bump as they settle in adjacent to each other, and Sylvie blushes as his stare lingers.

"What?" She asks, self consciously. "Something on my face?"

He gives her an amused yet disbelieving look. "You know exactly why I'm staring." He pauses and takes a deep calming breath. "You look amazing."

"So do you," Sylvie replies, gesturing to his light blue button down and charcoal slacks. "It's been really nice regularly seeing you in something besides your white Captain's shirt, tonight included."

"I agree, and I see no reason why we can't keep doing that," Casey concurs with a grin and a nod.

"Already planning the next date?" Sylvie asks, her entire face brightening.

His eyes meet hers nervously. "If that's okay with you?"

"Yeah," she answers. He can tell she's forcing herself to appear calmer than she really feels. Her eyes give her away every time. "Yeah, that's okay with me."

In fact, this already feels like at least a second date. More accurately, a third or fourth date. Conversation and laughter flow easily. The food and the company are both high quality. This date isn't even halfway over and it's already outshining any of his recent dates, even the dates that came _before_ his online dating profile.

She lets him pay the check this time. He makes a show of grabbing the check before she can and her response is a fond eye roll.

On the walk to his truck she reaches out and slips her hand into his. It feels like a big moment for them, even if it's a small gesture. Her hand fits in his a little too perfectly and he's a bit embarrassed by how much he's enjoying it. Surely, a grown man shouldn't feel as elated to hold a woman's hand as he does. Though, it's less about the hand holding and more about the _woman_.

She continues her guessing game until the moment they pull up outside of The Green Mill. Her face brightens and she reaches across the seat to grab his arm with both hands.

"Oh my god! The Green Mill? I have been _dying_ to check this place out for years but no one would ever go with me," she exclaims excitedly. "How did you know?"

He shakes his head at her. He's just as amazed by this turn of events as she is. "I didn't," he replies honestly. "I just thought you'd like some live music and this place came highly recommended."

"This place is legendary," she explains. "A piece of Chicago history. And I'm about to sound like the small town girl I actually am, _but_ it's on my Chicago Bucket List. Does that make me a total tourist? It does, doesn't?"

No, it makes her _adorable_, but he feels like that's not something he should admit outloud.

"Well, at least you've heard of the place. I grew up here and I had no idea it was _legendary_," he replies with a smirk. "Then again, didn't really care about jazz or music much at all until I met Boden."

"Was this the Chief's suggestion?" Sylvie asks curiously.

"It was."

"Oh, now I _know_ this is going to be amazing," she tells him. "Park this thing and let's go!"

He chuckles and nods. "Never knew you were this bossy about anything besides proper medical care."

She laughs and then gives him a flirtatious grin. "You think _this_ is bossy? Trust me, you haven't seen anything yet."

The look in her eyes is dark and mischievous. He's so shocked by it that he sucks in air the wrong way and ends up coughing.

Sylvie laughs and then hands him a small bottle of water out of her purse. "Something go down the wrong way, Matt?" She pats his back and, as he takes a slow sip, he nods. A short laugh bubbles out before she continues, "Yeah, I know the feeling."

Once he's stopped choking, he find a parking spot and turns to Sylvie with a wide eyed expression.

"You're going to keep surprising me like that, aren't you?" He asks.

She grins and shrugs. "You keep surprising me with thoughtful gestures. So fair is fair."

They head inside with his hand on the small of her back. He pays the cover and then they're lead a green velvet covered booth. There's art nouveau carvings in the molding, murals framed into the walls, lush greens and sinful reds cover almost every surface, and the wood is worn and dark. He feels like he's stepped back in time. Jazz fills the air. He can hear a sultry voice singing an American standard while brass, strings, and percussion back them up. The place oozes sex appeal.

A waitress appears at their table. She holds no menu, no fancy cocktail list, just a pad and a pen.

Sylvie grins and leans toward his ear. "Hermann would love this place."

He returns her grin and nods before addressing the waitress. "A whiskey neat, for me, and…" he gives Sylvie a questioning glance a she guesses her drink. "Vodka tonic?"

She beams at him and then nods at their waitress. "Perfect."

The waitress walks away as the song changes. It's one he's not familiar with but Sylvie visibly swoons.

"Oh, I love this song," she tells him. She slides closer in the booth so that he can hear her despite the music. "It's from _Singing in the Rain_." She chews the inside of her cheek and looks as though she's debating telling him something. After a moment of quiet, she caves. "I played Kathy Selden, the female lead, in high school."

His eyebrows raise and a delighted smile stretches across his face. "You were in a musical?"

"_Musicals_, plural," she corrects with a soft blush. "I was kind of the reigning drama nerd back then. I was in every production all four years of high school."

"How has this never come up before?" Matt asks, scooting closer to her. He knows he's grinning like a loon but imagining Brett in high school is too sweet to resist.

"I may suck at keeping secrets but that doesn't mean I like to go around handing people things they can tease me with," she tells him with a stern stare that contradicts her smile. "This stays between us, okay? Promise?"

She leans in to meet his eyes and he meets her halfway, his hand instinctively finding her thigh.

He somehow keeps himself from getting distracted by the texture of fishnets under his palm and replies, "Do you think I want anyone else teasing you about this? No, this is too good to share. So, every production all four years means how many exactly?"

"Oh, god, I should not have told you about this," she says with a rueful grin and a shake of her head. As her head shakes, one of her stray curls brushes his cheek. He's not sure they can sit any closer. Not that he minds. "I immediately regret this decision."

"No, come on," he pleads with a chuckle as he lets his arm slide around her. "You can't shut this down now. How many shows?

"Two shows a year," she says with a reluctant sigh.

"And did any of these shows happen to make it onto a home movie or—"

"I plead the fifth," she interrupts with flaming cheeks. "No way am I giving you anything else to use as blackmail. If I know you at all, the minute I say yes then this ends with you calling my parents to charm them into giving you evidence. No, no way. I refuse to answer."

She relaxes against his side just as his hand curves around her hip.

"That's ridiculous," he rebuts. "How would I even get your parents' number?"

"You're scary smart," she states with a playful glare. "You'd find a way."

Off the top of his head, he could think of at least three ways to get their number. She's smart to keep the answer to herself.

The waitress comes back with their drinks and swiftly leaves them alone again.

"Did you know, that this place used to be a hang out for Al Capone?" She asks him after taking a sip of her drink.

"I did not," he answers, wrapping his free hand around his lowball glass.

She nods as she takes another swallow. "It was originally owned by one of his most trusted guys. Machine Gun Jack McGurn."

His eyes narrow in thought. "I know that name. Why do I know that name?"

"He was a boxer and supposedly planned the St. Valentine's Day massacre," she adds helpfully.

"St. Valentine's Day massacre," he says, snapping his fingers as it clicks.

She presses herself a little closer to him. "From what I've read, one of these booths was Al Capone's regular table. Maybe even this one."

"How do you know so much about this place?" He asks, amused by this nerdier side of Sylvie Brett.

"I'm not from here," she explains. "So, I feel like I have to make up for lost time. Or something like that. That's why I have a bucket list. I think I need to see more of Chicago to really feel like I belong. If that makes any sense at all."

"It does," he concurs. He sets his glass down and takes her hand in his, studying her fingers as he continues. "But…"

"But?" She prompts when his words trail off.

He clears his throat nervously and meets her eyes. "You _do_ belong here, Sylvie. No one who knows you thinks otherwise. So, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Thank you," Sylvie replies softly. "That means more than you know."

They've gone from sitting close to each other to nearly sitting on top of each other. The physical closeness just turned emotional and combine that with the nearness of her and what comes next is unavoidable. He crosses the marginal amount of distance between them to capture her lips with his. He's been dying to kiss her again all night. He's not missing his chance.

He feels, more than hears, her appreciative whimper that's muffled against his mouth. Sylvie's hands slowly slide up his chest and stop on his shoulders. One kiss becomes two. On the second kiss, her lips part and the contact deepens. It's a slower, steamier version of their kiss in the Blue Office. He doesn't think he's ever going to get enough.

The tease of those fishnets comes back to him and he can't help but feel them again. His hand burns a trail along the outside of her thigh, bunching the skirt at an immodest length. She sighs into the kiss and fists her hands around his shirt collar. A moment before he lets them get carried away in, what might be, Al Capone's favorite booth, Sylvie pulls back.

"We should get out of here," she suggests, pressing her forehead to his. "Maybe find somewhere a little quieter?"

He nods and smirks in response. "That sounds like a good idea to me."

He drops cash on the table (more than enough for their drinks and a tip) and then holds out Sylvie's coat for her as they stand up from the booth. Maybe, while helping her, his hands ghost a lingering path from her shoulders to her waist. She doesn't seem to mind, judging by the way she sways ever so slightly into his hands.

Her arm goes around his back as they walk through the crowded space. He follows her lead and wraps an arm around her waist, his hand settling on her hip. If they hold a few other people up by stopping to exchange one or two lazy kisses then he doesn't notice — or give a damn. That's probably more accurate.

It isn't long before he's got her back pressed to his passenger side door and his lips are on hers again. He knows they should get in the truck and stop making out in public like a couple of teenagers, but stopping now seems impossible. Her arms are around his neck and her hands are carding through the short hair on the back of his head. Her touch is equally as comforting as it is exciting. Which shouldn't make sense…

But somehow it does.

He's managed to unbutton her coat and plunge his hands underneath it. The thin fabric of her dress doesn't leave much to the imagination. He can feel the waistline of her fishnet tights and the hard wire of her underwire bra at the top of her ribs. His thumb idly brushes against her breast through the sparkly green wrap dress and Sylvie breaks away from him with a gasping breath.

Her wild dark eyes meet his and he decides it's beyond time to clear the street and take this somewhere else. But what happens from here should be up to Sylvie.

"The way I see it," he says, though he barely recognizes his own voice. It's low and rumbling. "We have three choices."

She nods and speaks while she's still catching her breath. "I'm surprisingly good at multiple choice questions."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes at her. "No one is surprised by that."

She smacks his arm and laughs. "What are the choices?"

"We end the night here and I take you home."

Her pout and furrowed brow tell him clearly how she feels about that option. He's relieved because that's not what he wants either.

"We rein in the kissing and go somewhere else."

Her eyes narrow on him and he can tell she's waiting for the third option. The first two don't appeal to her.

"Or you can come back to my place for another drink. It's up to you."

Her furrowed brow relaxes and her eyes light up again as a smirk forms on her kiss swollen lips. "Well, I don't normally go home with guys on the first date."

For a minute, he thinks he won't like where this is going, but then she keeps talking.

"Although, if we count the double date this is _technically_ our second date," she informs him.

"Could be our fourth if you include those post game drinks at Molly's," he adds, eagerly.

"Very true, and if this is our fourth date then — if you think about it — we're one date behind the usual protocols," she replies, with a coy smile.

"So…?" He says with a hopeful glance.

"Your place," she answers, using her hands on the base of his neck to pull him in for a final quick kiss. "Definitely your place."

"You're sure?" He asks. "I have no expectations of anything happening tonight if you don't want it to."

"I'm sure," she says with certainty. "Whatever happens, I want to be alone with you right now."

"I just...don't want you to have any regrets, that's all," he tells her honestly.

She frames his face with her hands and pulls his gaze down to meet hers. He sees no trace of nerves or doubts in her eyes as she speaks. "The only way I'll have any regrets about tonight is if you take me anywhere but home with you. Copy?"

A soft grin stretches across his lips and his stare turns affectionate. She really is fearless or at least it seems that way to him.

"Copy," he repeats, pulling them away from the truck while reaching to open the passenger side door for her. "My place it is."

His mind wanders back to Severide volunteering to clear out for the night as he helps Sylvie into the truck and he can't stop himself from grinning in amusement. Severide said an "explosion was imminent" and damn did he ever call it. Matt hadn't thought the night would lead him to this moment, but he's glad it did.

Once he started touching Sylvie Brett he knew he wouldn't be able to stop, and now it seems he won't have to. The two of them are blowing past all kinds of lines tonight. It's new and _dangerous_ in the best way possible.

He walks around the truck and steps in the driver's side, still contemplating Kelly's words.

Imminent explosion is the _only _way to describe what he's feeling. No other words portray the chemistry and excitement quite so accurately.

He glances at Sylvie out of the corner of his eye as he pulls out on the road. The momentum of the entire night has been building to this and they both know it.

This is happening.

Sylvie catches him watching her and grins slyly. She crosses her fishnet clad legs and unbuttons her coat, drawing his attention to her legs. Her skirt has ridden up, exposing more of her thighs. He takes in a deep calming breath and shakes his head at her.

"You're trying to kill me," he states with a breathy chuckle.

A husky laugh he's never heard before fills the cab of his truck as she disagrees. "No, just providing a little bit of motivation, _Captain_."

Oh, _fuck_. If he wasn't in a truck with his name on the side of it, this is when he'd start running red lights.

He groans as if he's pain and forces his eyes back to the road. The night may have been leading them here, but now he gets the feeling he is in _no way_ prepared for this. He's about to see a side of Sylvie Brett that will no doubt _ruin him_.

And he can't goddamn wait.


	6. The Truth

**A/N: **Be warned, this chapter contains smut. LOTS of smut lol. NSFW or public transportation (unless you turn your screen brightness down haha). One more chapter to go for this fic! Not sure when I'll have it up given that the Christmas Holiday events start tomorrow for my family. So you may have to sit tight for a bit. Sorry about that!

Thanks again to **katertots** for all her help and inspiration!

Happy reading!

angellwings

PS - I did not proofread because I'm tired and this chapter is very long so please forgive any typos or redundant phrasing.

* * *

Part 6: The Truth

* * *

"You can't love yourself,

At the expense of someone else.

You can't hide a liar,

From the truth.

Love is looking for you."

-"Love Is Looking For You" by Miranda Lambert

* * *

She's not sure where their momentum from the Green Mill went, but by the time they're walking down the hall toward Casey and Severide's door things have gotten awkward. There's nerves and uncertainty flowing off of both of them. Their arms seem glued to their sides and their hands have been keeping to themselves. It's a far cry from making out in Al Capone's favorite booth.

He opens the door and motions her inside first. While he locks it behind them she sheds her coat and lays it on the back of the couch.

"Something to drink?" Casey asks as he motions to the cart that acts as a makeshift liquor cabinet. Liquor doesn't appeal to her right now. She wants familiarity and comfort.

"Can I get a beer?" She asks.

"I think I can manage that," Matt replies with his first easy smile in at least fifteen minutes.

He takes off his coat and then joins her a couple of minutes later with two long neck bottles. He hands one to her and then they both sit.

She bites her lip and glances down at her boots. She points at them while she asks, "Do you mind if I take these off? They're cute but not all that comfortable."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "No, please. Make yourself at home."

At home in Matt Casey's apartment? Easier said than done, she thinks as she reaches for the zipper on the side of one of her boots. Once they're off she pulls her legs underneath her and angles her body toward his. They both take long sips of their beers to stall conversation.

"So, still enjoying rooming with Severide?" She asks.

"Yeah," he answers with a sideways smirk. "Especially now that he's got Stella and he doesn't try to make me go to clubs anymore."

Sylvie laughs loudly, trying to imagine Matt in a club.

"Okay," he says with a glare that contradicts his amused smile. "It's not that funny."

"Did you dance when he took you to these clubs?" Sylvie asks as she tries to hide her grin with her hand.

"No, I did not," he says with a small smile and a long suffering sigh.

"Cause you knew if you did Severide would film it on his phone and use it as blackmail?" She questions, though she already knows the answer.

"Among other things," Matt agrees.

"I bet you dance like my dad," Sylvie challenges, scooting closer so that her knees rest against his thigh. She pulls her elbows into her side and then sways with a slight swing in her hips, doing an impression of her father at her brother's wedding. "Shoulders and arms only."

He sets his beer aside and rests his hands on her hips to stop them from moving. He narrows his eyes and shakes his head with a chuckle. "Please stop."

"Why? Is this hitting too close to home, Matt?" She asks, laughing as she tries to squirm away from him.

The ice is slowly breaking and the chemistry is sparking again, if the way his hands spread goosebumps across her skin is any indication.

He finally manages to still her dancing by leaning into her space with a hungry stare. "Could you stop making fun of me long enough for me to kiss you?"

She's momentarily stunned by both his question and the look in his eyes. Her only reply is to nod silently and wait for him to close the distance. His nose bumps hers before his lips finally find hers again. He takes her beer from her hand and places it on the coffee table without a single break in their exploratory kisses. It's a smooth move but it appears to be his last bit of finesse for the time being.

He pushes her back on the couch and she grunts as something digs into her back. She pulls back with a wince and tries to wordlessly push against his shoulders to indicate something's wrong. But before he gets the message the TV turns on at an insanely loud volume — blasting some obnoxious infomercial as loud as humanly possible. They both react with a stilted lurch forward causing their foreheads to knock together with a loud smack.

She cries out in pain while Matt lets out a string of curses she's never heard him utter before. She rubs the sore spot on her forehead and gently pushes Matt up until they're both sitting again.

She turns to look at what he laid her down on to find the television remote sitting harmlessly on the couch cushion. She lets out a sound that seems to be a combination of a laugh and a sigh while she picks up the remote. Matt blinks at her in a near-concussed daze, widens his eyes, and then shuts them tight.

"My back hit the power button on the remote," she explains with a whining laugh. "Go figure. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, good," he answers. "More embarrassed than hurt."

"Do you think we'll have matching bumps?" She asks, trying to press her lips together to hide her amusement. "Might be kinda cool. We could start a new trend."

He laughs softly and then winces in pain. She brings her hands up to either side of his face and then smooths one hand over the red spot on his forehead.

She keeps her tone gentle but allows her eyes to tease him as she speaks. "Should I check you for signs of a concussion? I'm trained for that, you know."

"Oh, really? That's brand new information," he replies sarcastically.

Sylvie rolls her eyes at him, turns the tv off, and then drops the remote on the coffee table next to their beers. She changes tactics when she recognizes his grumpy tone. She nudges him back on the couch and then straddles his lap. His eyes open as she settles on top of him.

"Is this how paramedics check for concussions these days?" He asks. "If so I should get concussed more often."

She scoffs and smiles playfully at him. "Uh, no, I think things fall on your head enough as it is. Please don't go looking for that on your off time."

She leans over him, letting her hair fall around them like a curtain. She softly kisses the spot on his head that's now only slightly pink and then rests her forehead against his.

"Better?" She asks, closing her eyes and breathing him in. There's a faint trace of sawdust under whatever woodsy cologne he put on tonight. She loves it.

"I'm certainly not gonna complain, if that's what you're asking," he replies as his hands find her hips and then lightly skim up her sides.

She straightens into an upright position and then reaches for the knot on the front of her dress. "We should probably make sure you're not suffering from double vision. Don't you think?"

His mouth falls open in a look of pleasant surprise before he nods eagerly. "Uh, yeah, yeah I think that's a brilliant idea."

"Though you might," she replies with a smirk. She tugs once firmly, and the knot comes apart. The dress falls open, revealing the matching set of black lacy underwear she'd chosen and the thick black waist band of her fishnets. She holds up two fingers but presses them to her sternum, directly between her breasts. She quirks a mischievous brow to accentuate her smirk. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

His eyes drag over her, from her fishnet covered waist to her exposed chest, stopping on the two fingers covering her cleavage.

"Two," he responds in a voice that sounds considerably lower than it did before.

She nods and then lowers her chest to his. Her lips ghost over his but never land for a kiss. "Very good. Looks like you'll be just fine, sir." She rights herself and then stands from the couch. Matt's eyes are glued to her the entire time. "But just to cover our bases, we could find a _bed_ and do a more thorough examination. Just to be safe."

"Precautions are good," Casey agrees as he sits up and flicks his eyes down a nearby hallway.

She follows his stare to a closed door and grins. "Through there?"

He nods and motions toward the hall with a sweeping gesture. "After you."

She saunters down the hall without a single glance back and strolls into the room as if she's not a bit nervous. She's amazed she's pulling it off because inside she's buzzing with nerves. They've crossed other lines tonight but this one is more than a line. It's an international border. The kind of line that requires a stamp in your passport, an eternal reminder of your visit. If it doesn't work out, they'll be no way to pretend it never happened.

She doesn't turn to face him until they've both reached his room and the door is shut behind them. A surprised laugh leaves her lips when she finds that, some time between the couch and the bedroom, he's removed his nice blue button up shirt and gray trousers.

They're both held in one of his hands and dropped to the floor in a rush as he stands in front of her in boxers and a thin undershirt. Apparently, freeing his hands so he can reach out and slide them under her open dress. He pulls her flush against him which results in her feeling clear _hard_ proof of just how much he wants her. If she had any doubts about that, they're gone now.

She slips her arms out of her dress sleeves and lets it fall to the ground, creating a pool of shimmering green fabric at her feet.

And now they're nearly naked, but not _nearly naked_ enough. Her hands go around him and grab the bottom hem of his undershirt. She pulls it up and then he pulls it over his head and off. It joins her dress on the floor and leaves his hard muscular chest on full display.

She could get used to this view. It's spectacular.

She steps back from him and reaches for her fishnets, planning to take them off, but Matt's hands over hers stop her in her tracks.

"Leave them," he requests hoarsely. "For now."

Her lips form a surprised circle at the need she hears in his voice and she can't help but do as he asks.

He slips a finger under one of her bra straps and slides it over her collar bone to the top of her shoulder. "But _this_," he says, meaning her black lacy bra. "Can go."

She feels her nerves fade slightly. It allows her confidence to return, even if it might just be for a brief moment.

She wraps her arms around his neck and leans further into him, making the back clasp easy to reach.

"You want it gone?" She asks as she meets his darkened gaze with hers. "Then go for it, Casey. Be my guest."

He dips his head to kiss her deeply while she feels his hand ambling up the length of her spine until his fingers find the clasp. He pinches it until the hooks come loose. The straps go slack on her shoulders. While continuing their string of slow open mouthed kisses, she pulls her arms through the straps and tosses the bra aside.

He walks her back toward the bed, leading her to sit on the edge of the mattress. He then moves his lips downward. His hands palm her breasts while he trails hot kisses across her throat, in the valley of her modest cleavage, and then over her stomach. His fingers briefly circle her pebbled nipples before he removes his hands curve them around her waist instead. The eager sounds she makes through all of it and the way she arches against his every kiss and caress are beyond her control. She has to fight herself to keep from falling back onto the mattress.

But she won't lose sight of him yet. She wants to _see_ what he's up to. Not just feel it.

He gently pushes her thighs apart and then settles on his knees on the floor, directly between her legs. His fingers dip under the waistband of not just her tights but her underwear too. He hooks them and tugs, but stops halfway down her hips.

He kisses the inside of one thigh over the fishnets and then the other, each eliciting a soft appreciative sigh from her lips. She's determined to keep her eyes on him but when his lips and tongue find her already wet center through her tights she can't keep her head from dropping back or her eyes from closing. A sharp gasp leaves her and her hips instinctively snap forward. She moans through one...two..._three_ slow licks before he returns to peeling back her tights and underwear. His hands caress her legs as he goes.

It amazes her to learn exactly how gentle his rough hands can be.

Once her legs are bare, he stands and removes his boxers. The last layer of clothing between them is gone. They stare at each other for a few quiet moments as they take in the shift in their relationship. It's all suddenly feeling very _real_.

As he reaches in his nightstand for a condom, he fumbles with the foil packet and nearly drops it. It's the first time she's seen evidence that he's as nervous as her. Once he has it open, it takes him a moment to roll it on. She's about to offer her help just as he figures it out.

His eyes meet hers in relief and they can't help but share an awkward laugh.

"Can you tell I'm a bit nervous?" He asks, self consciously.

"You're not the only one," she confesses. "Trust me."

Then he's kissing her again, which is one thing she can tell he's _not_ nervous about, and they're moving back across the mattress. He waits until her head hits the pillows before pushing into her. Her legs wrap around his waist and he goes slowly, like how someone might lower themselves into a hot bath.

It feels _blissful_, and he hasn't even moved yet. They just _fit_. He thrusts and she gasps. It's better than she imagined. The next time he moves, she moves with him. Moving together allows him in deeper, hitting her completely differently than the first thrust.

On impulse, she lightly pushes on his chest until he complies and lets her take the lead. She flips their positions so that she can straddle him and tries to set a slow pace. They have all night, she knows there's no need to rush.

But the faster she moves the closer she gets to that highest peak of release. Matt's hands grip her hips and squeeze. He squeezes so tight that she knows she'll have bruises from the press of his fingers into her skin. She relishes it.

* * *

Oh, _fuck_. She feels _good_. Too good.

She's moving faster than he's ready for and he tries to slow her down with his hands but his restrictive hold on her hips only seems to spur her on.

He can tell by her smooth movements that she's close but not as close as he is. But her heat wrapped around him is too delicious and too tempting. He doesn't really want her to stop, but he knows if she doesn't at least slow down then he's _done_.

It takes him a minute too long to find his voice amongst the heat flooding every part of him, but finally he does.

"Sylvie, slow it down," he manages to croak from underneath her. He tries to guide her hips and manually slow them down.

He can see understanding in her eyes as she nods, but their last movement must hit her in just the right place because her hips suddenly buck not just once but twice while her mouth drops open with a wanton whimper.

The movement, the sights, the sounds all hit him at once and no amount of slowing down will save him now. She feels too hot and too tight and too goddamn perfect. He jerks and groans from underneath her as release hits him first.

He goes from highest high to lowest low the minute his eyes manage to open again.

"_Fuck_," he curses.

They're already splayed open to each other and vulnerable so he can read her crestfallen face clear as day.

"Matt, did you just…"

"Yeah…"

Mortified is not a strong enough word for how he feels at the moment. "Shit, I'm such an asshole."

He can see her try to push past her frustration. She wipes the back of her hand across her sweat slicked brow while she bites her lip. Her brow is furrowed and the corners of her mouth are turned down as she rolls off of him. He knows that look and what it means. She was, and likely still is, _close_.

But she tries to assure him anyway because she's just that damn _good_. "No, you're not! It's f—"

"Don't say it's fine, Sylvie. I know you're nice to a fault but there's a limit," he tells her. "This is the limit. I swear to you I am better than _this_, but you just...holy shit, Sylvie you felt—_we_ felt amazing and I got carried away and by the time I—" He sighs in embarrassment. "Doesn't matter. I'm gonna fix this."

"How, Matt?" She asks with an irritated huff as she collapses back on the bed — seeming to finally admit her disappointment.

Yeah, he's officially a dick. "Just trust me, give me one second."

He excuses himself to the bathroom and throws away the condom. When he comes back she's sitting naked on his bed with her back against the headboard. This is not how their first time should have gone. But it did and he can't change that now.

Now all he can do is take care of _her_. No way is he letting her walk away unsatisfied because he flamed out too quickly.

As he gets closer, he can make out her hand slinking lower, approaching the bundle of nerves between her thighs. He grabs her wrist as he slides into bed next to her and pulls her hand away.

"No you don't," he tells her as he places a kiss to the palm of her hand. "My mistake, my solution."

"Matt," she whines.

"I asked you to trust me," he reminds her. "Do you?"

"You know I do," she replies with a small smile.

"Good, then relax," he tells her before kissing his way down the curve of her neck. "Let me handle it."

He kisses down her body, stopping when he reaches her stomach. First, he wants to see how close she still is. He softly sweeps a finger between her legs, from back to front, barely brushing her still swollen bud. Her back arches and a moan escapes her in immediate response to his touch.

Still pretty damn close then.

He continues kissing down the rest of her body and purposefully mimics his teasing from before he removed her fishnets. He kisses one thigh and then the other to let her prepare for what comes next.

The smell and the taste of her excites him even if he's already had his turn. He's eager to get a reaction out of her and to learn about the ways her body responds to pleasure. It's going to be both educational and entertaining. Who doesn't enjoy that?

He takes two slow hesitant licks at first. The way she sucks in a breath and digs her hands into his hair tells him he's on the right track. He locks his arms around her waist and seals her tighter against his mouth. She lets out a strangled cry and rocks her hips against his face.

"Oh my god," she moans. "Matt…"

That's the final bit of assurance he needs before he starts devouring her with a singular focus. He holds her as securely as he can but he can't stop her from grinding herself against his face. Before long, though, he finds he doesn't want to. He's enjoying her uncontrollable enthusiasm more than he thought possible. Her movements soon become erratic, her moans and gasps more frequent, and he can feel her muscles beginning to tense all around him.

She's right there on the edge again and he gives her one more push.

She cries out at the peak of it and he watches the release roll over her like a tidal wave.

Her chest is rising and falling in panting breaths. He can tell she thinks they're done. He waits until the last of the aftershocks rolls through her…

And then thrusts two fingers inside of her.

His name slips off her lips in a something between a sob and a curse. He smirks and then curls his fingers. She all but vaults off the bed. She grabs his face and yanks his lips to hers as he continues to work her with his hand. He knows she can taste herself in his mouth because the kissing seems to make her more vocal. Granted, her moans and cries are muffled by their kisses but they're definitely more frequent.

Honestly, nothing in the world tastes, sounds, or _feels_ better than Sylvie Brett in the throes of passion. _Jesus_. He's gonna be ready for another round sooner than he previously thought possible. How the hell does she have this strong of an effect on him already?

It doesn't take long for her to shudder her way through another orgasm and he can tell by her sated half lidded gaze that his attempt at round two is going to have to wait.

"Holy shit, Matt," Sylvie says as she curls into him. "I think I might have blacked out there for a second. I—Jesus. You didn't have to go that hard."

He chuckles and presses a kiss to her hair. "Yeah, I did. I owed you one."

"I don't know if you were actually counting or not but that was _two_ not one," she points out with a slightly punchdrunk laugh.

"I was counting," he replies as he pulls the covers around them. "And after you get some sleep, we're going for number three."

"Can't wait," she mumbles as her eyelids flutter closed. "So good."

"I turned it around, huh?" He asks with a smirk.

"I'd say back to back orgasms should definitely be classified as a win, yeah," she tells him in a groggy voice.

Her head comes to rest on his chest and he holds off his own sleep until the sound of her deep and peaceful breathing reaches his ears.

They had a rocky start, but as long as she's happy then so is he. Besides, he'll continue making it up to her in the morning.

He was completely serious about going for that third orgasm.

* * *

The next time her eyes open it's due to sunlight streaming through the blinds. It lands in a perfect bright line across her closed eyelids. She whines and buries her face in her pillow—no, wait, not a pillow.

Her head is definitely not resting on anything soft. Nope. What's under her cheek is all bare hard muscles.

There's a callused hand splayed across her naked hip. It's attached to an arm that's curled around her protectively while she lays on her side nestled into a very warm body.

Despite the nakedness, or maybe because of it, this is the coziest she's ever been. She never wants to leave this bed. The fact that this bed is _Matt Casey's_ bed makes it even better.

Being in _Matt Casey's_ bed means last night actually happened. It means she _didn't_ dream it.

She has one hand resting on his abdomen and the other tucked under her cheek. Her legs are folded together, bent at the knee, and overlapping Matt's thighs. There is not a single part of her that doesn't have contact with some part of him. It feels _perfect_. Like they just..._fit_.

She lifts her head to get a good look at his profile in the early morning light and he's just as she expects. Ridiculously good looking.

Meanwhile, she probably has racoon eyes and the kind of crazy hair that can only come from truly _good_ sex. Not to mention morning breath.

She holds herself completely still but cranes her neck to get a look at what clothes she can scoop up off the floor. She can't make a break for the bathroom in her birthday suit. Maybe if she can sneak out of bed and check the bathroom mirror she can preemptively keep Matt from seeing Bozo haired, bandit eyed Sylvie Brett.

It may not have been too soon for sex but it is definitely too soon to show him that particular look.

She carefully lifts her hand off of his stomach and tries to swiftly duck out of his hold on her waist, but his arm tenses and then pulls her closer. His hand squeezes her hip and then without opening his eyes or moving his head, he speaks.

"Where exactly do you think you're going?"

Of course he's not asleep. The jerk. "How long have you been awake?"

"I think I asked my question first," he replies. He eyes are still closed but he wears an adorably sleepy smirk.

"I was just planning on freshening up," she answers. "I look like a trainwreck."

He cracks one eye open to look at her and she wishes he'd let her sneak away to the bathroom first.

"You don't," he says factually as he closes both eyes again. "You look like someone who had a night of damn good sex before eventually falling asleep. It's a good look. Now, would you mind laying back down? I was enjoying a quiet morning in bed with you until you tried to run away and ruin it."

She laughs lightly but settles back into his side. "I was _not_ running away. I fully intended to come back to bed."

"Yeah?" He asks warily.

"Yes," she answers, biting her lip through a playful grin. "I'm not leaving without a cup of coffee and a free breakfast _first_."

"Right, so I just need to put that off as long as possible," he says with a grin, leaving a kiss on her forehead afterward.

"And how do you plan to do that?" She asks as she returns his kiss by placing one on his shoulder.

"I have a few ideas," he declares only a split second before suddenly rolling over on top of her. "I still have an early misstep to make up for."

"Trust me, you've already done that. I'm not the _least_ bit disappointed," she says as she tries to reassure him.

His hand trails down her thigh to the underside of her knee and pulls her leg around his waist. She shivers as he does the same with her other leg. His lingering touch leaves goosebumps popping up all over her.

"Let's just make extra sure, yeah?" He asks in a gravelly voice.

He's fully hard already and insistently pressing against her. He grinds into her causing her to arch under him with a wanton cry.

The breathy voice that leaves her hardly sounds like her own. "Matt." He moves again and she moans. "Oh god, condom _now_."

He chuckles and presses his lips to her jawline. He trails kisses up to her temple while blindly reaching for the bedside table. She turns her head and catches his lips. They don't ease into this kiss as they have others. No, their mouths are open and tongues are exploring right away.

Her hands roam his chest, dipping lower and lower until she can wrap one hand around the part of him she wants the _most_ right now. He pulls away from the kiss with a breath hissed through his teeth. She watches him carefully as she swipes her thumb over the tip of him. His eyes close and he instinctively thrusts into her hand.

When his eyes open again they look nearly lethal. Keeping her hand around him feels dangerous, especially considering the night before.

"You keep that up and history is likely to repeat itself," he warns.

She grins, taking his warning as a challenge.

"No, it won't," she says leaning up to murmur in his ear with a saucy smirk. "I believe in you."

She pumps her hand over the length of him twice. He fights it but can't keep from moving with her. His hand that was searching for a condom swiftly wraps around her wrist, keeping her from testing his restraint any further. He's holding both the condom and her wrist so she can feel the cool foil wrapper against her skin. She snatches it from him with her other hand and holds it up for him to see.

"If you want this then you'll have to let go of my wrist."

One of his arms is keeping him positioned above her and the other is keeping her from pushing him any closer to the edge. Between them, there's only one free hand and _someone_ will need two to open the condom.

He chuckles mutely, shakes his head in amusement, and then releases her wrist. "You're trouble. I should have known."

She surges forward and pops a quick kiss to his lips. "You really should have."

A moment later her hands are on him again, this time to roll the condom on. He buries his face in the curve of her neck and lets out a groan as she finishes. Since he seems to be a little distracted at the moment, she adjusts underneath him and lines him up to her entrance — whimpering pathetically when the tip of him barely touches her.

"Ready when you are," she says bringing one hand up and running it through his hair.

He nods wordlessly and then impatiently thrusts in all at once. Her back rises off the mattress and she cries out at the delicious shock of it — _of him_. Of how he fills her so perfectly.

"Oh my god, Matt," she whispers as she wraps her arms around his midsection in an attempt to ground herself.

His expression is intense — _stormy._ This time will be different from anything that happened last night. He's not planning on gentle early morning love making. No, this time she has a feeling she'll simply need to hang on to him for dear life.

He pulls back then slams into her again. Her nails dig into his back and she takes a deep gasping breath. Oh, fuck yes, he's not taking it easy on her this time around. She is definitely here for it. He sets the pace and she quickly falls into his rhythm, moving with him. The first time may have been clumsy but they're quick learners by trade. She has a feeling the sex will never be that clumsy ever again. Especially not now. What's happening now is definitely going to be classified as a _fuck_. Not that she's opposed to that in _any_ way.

He's pounding into her hard and fast, quickly pushing her toward release. She's never been this close this fast with anyone before. Their movements become erratic and his arms wrap completely around her. His grip is constricting and it only adds to her excitement. He's as close as she is. The fact that they've gone from embarrassingly out of sync to _this_ in one night is nothing short of remarkable.

She bites her bottom lip to keep from screaming as her release breaks over her in scorching waves. She feels flames and frost flicking over her entire body all at once. The contradiction causes her head to spin and the mattress to fall away beneath her. When her equilibrium returns, she finds Casey collapsed on top of her and her teeth still digging into her bottom lip.

She must have drawn blood because her mouth is suddenly filled with the taste of copper, and she's certain she'll have some bruising in an hour or two. The idea of having physical reminders of Matt to look at when she gets home leaves a satisfying warmth lingering in her chest.

"I think you scratched the _hell_ out of my back," he says with a hoarse laugh. "Holy shit, that drove me insane."

"In a good way?" She asks self consciously.

"In the best way," he assures her as he grabs one of her hands and kisses her fingertips. "_Jesus Christ_, that was amazing."

She feels spent and can't seem to find any words that are better than what he's already said so she nods sluggishly. "So amazing that I think I need a power nap before breakfast."

Her stomach rumbles loudly as Matt severs their connection and rolls off of her.

He gives her a fond yet scolding glare and shakes his head. "No, by the sound of that we need to eat _first_. Been a while since dinner."

He gets out of bed grabs a pair of his sweats, two pairs boxers, a t-shirt, and a sweatshirt. He leaves the sweatshirt and one pair of boxers on the foot of the bed.

"Get up, put those on, and I'll make you breakfast," he instructs.

She props herself up on her elbows and quirks a brow at him. "I thought I was supposed to be the bossy one outside of the Firehouse?"

"We'll split the difference," he replies with a chuckle as he leaves the room.

She hears the bathroom door, down the hall, open and close before forcing herself to get out from under Matt's warm sheets. His bed really was much cozier than hers. She's not sure if it's because of _him_ or his bed linens, but it doesn't really matter. Either way, she'd rather be in his bed than hers.

She changes and then rummages around for a pair of socks. The floors in this place are freezing. Surely, Matt won't mind considering she's already wearing some of his clothes.

She smooths out her hair as best she can without a mirror and pulls it up in a short ponytail. She still wants to try and clean up her smudged eyeliner and mascara first chance she gets.

The toilet flushes as she wanders out into the living room. This place is nice but it definitely belongs to two men. She finds the coffee maker just as Matt finds _her_, and grins like a loon when his arms slip around her from behind.

"That sweatshirt looks much better on you than it ever has on me," he tells her with a quick kiss to her temple. He releases her with a light squeeze to her hips and then steps over to the fridge. "Eggs, bacon, and toast okay with you?"

"Perfect," she replies as she reaches for the can of coffee grounds on the counter. "How strong do you make your coffee? Two scoops or three?"

"Damn, wouldn't three strip all the hair off your body? That's like rocket fuel," he quips with raised eyebrows.

"Two it is then," she says, laughingly. "Joe and Otis always drink sludge. I have a keurig just for me."

She ignores the twinge of sadness at the mention of Otis. He's gone not forgotten. She should be able to talk about him fondly. He was a big part of her life.

Casey catches her eye with a quiet look of curious concern. She smiles weakly and releases a deep breath in answer to his silent question. She's okay. _Really_ and truly okay.

Once the coffee is brewing she hops onto the counter next to the stove so she can sit and chat with him while he cooks.

They chat about everything and nothing. If she didn't know any better she would think nothing had changed between them. But every now and then one of them reaches out with a light affectionate touch or their eyes connect for a moment too long and she _feels_ it. The sizzling chemistry that's grown between them is undeniable and she's delighted that it doesn't seem to be fizzing out anytime soon.

They eat while sitting on the couch with her socked feet across his lap. They laugh and joke and flirt and it's quite possibly the most effortlessly intimate moment she's ever had with a man. She never wants it to end.

When breakfast is done, she tells Matt she'll clean up but he refuses to let her. He takes his dishes to the sink and begins to wash.

"What do you have planned for the day?" He asks her.

"Nothing. Why?"

"No reason, just hoping you'll stick around for a while," he admits with a bashful grin.

"Trust me, I am in no rush to leave," she replies honestly. "I'm all yours."

Or at least she wants to be.

She doesn't know how _he_ feels about that. She's terrified to bring it up, but she knows she can't put it off forever.

Last night and this morning have been amazing and, while Matt talked about future dates like they were a given last night and seemed determined to keep her around this morning, they haven't actually talked about where this might be going and what they want it to be.

An empty breakfast plate sits on the coffee table in front of her. They're not cooking or eating or in the middle of any other sort of activity so now seems as good a time as any to bring it up.

"Hey, Matt?" She asks as she picks up her plate and carries it to him at the sink.

"Yeah?" He calls back with a lopsided grin.

"Listen, I know this is still new so I don't want this to come off as pressuring in any way but...well, considering last night I think we need to talk about it." If she sounds nervous then it's because she is nervous. She's not looking for him to promise her forever _right_ now but she does need to know where he feels they _might_ be heading. This won't work if they're not on the same page. After a brief pause to fortify herself against anxiety, she continues. "What are we doing exactly?" She motions between them to illustrate her point. "With _us,_ I mean? What do you want this to be?"

He finishes drying the pan he cooked their eggs in and then focuses his attention on her.

"To be honest," he begins. "I'm not sure. I know I like you, Sylvie. I'm certain I enjoy spending time with you."

Just when she thinks that's it and they've made it out of the woods, he goes on.

"I was thinking keep it light, you know? Casual."

"Casual?" She asks, as her hopes for the future flatline.

"Right. No labels. We just keep having fun," he replies.

"Like...what? Friends with benefits?" She asks, trying to keep her expression neutral. Even if she wants to scream in frustration. After all they went through to even get to this moment, he wants to be _friends with benefits_?

"I wouldn't exactly put it that way," he says. "But yeah I guess."

Friends with benefits is _impossible_ for her. She proved that with Antonio. She cannot and _will not_ do that again. She was so sure he wanted more than that. She knows the way things ended with Gabby hurt him and it would make sense if he were gunshy, but he has never once given her that impression until now.

She scoffs, bitterly, and shakes her head. "That sounds good in theory, Casey, but I've been down that road with someone once before. It doesn't work."

"That someone wasn't me," he tries to assure her.

Yeah, and that makes it even less likely to work.

She sighs and meets his eyes. She knows she looks tired. She suddenly _feels_ tired. She thought her love life was going _right_ for once, but now she sees she's stumbled into another dead end.

"The only reason to try friends with benefits," she tells him through a tense jaw. "Is to avoid feelings for the person you're seeing. Is that...is that what you're wanting? To avoid feelings for me?"

"What? No, Sylvie, I just thought casual might be easier—"

She chuckles, wryly, and cuts him off. "Easier. Got it. Easier for who? You? And how long do you see us playing out this friends with benefits scenario, Matt?"

"I don't know," he says with a confused expression. "I guess until it stops working — _if_ it stops working."

She feels tears stinging her eyes and hates herself for it. She knows what that really means. She should have listened to her worries and fears instead of running full steam ahead toward Matthew Casey. She'd known better and yet here she is — right where she feared she'd be.

He doesn't want commitment, he doesn't want labels — he wants to keep one foot in and one foot out. He wants temporary.

There's only one reason he'd want that.

"Until it stops working," she repeats. "Or until Gabby comes back?"

"I don't know what you—" He stammers, coiling back from her in surprise. "This has nothing to do with—"

Sure, it doesn't. God, how did she let things get this far? She can't listen to him any more. It hurts too much. So, she talks over him.

"If all you wanted was someone to keep your bed warm, you should have picked up someone random at Molly's. I'm sure you'd have plenty of takers," she snaps. She spins on her heel and heads to Matt's bedroom.

She needs to leave. _Now_.

"Wait a damn minute," he says sternly as he follows her. "I don't want someone _random_, Sylvie. I want _you_."

"For now," she amends angrily. "You want me _for now_. Look, I _won't_ be a placeholder for Gabby. I deserve more than that, Matt. We both do."

She snatches up her clothes from the floor as quickly as possible. She's mortified that she even entertained the idea that she would ever stand a chance with him — that he would ever want her the same way she wants him.

If it's too good to be true, it probably is.

She faces Matt as he stands in his doorway with wide eyes and a slackjaw. He looks completely lost and bewildered. He doesn't get it.

Her voice softens as defeat overwhelms her. "This was a mistake. We should cut our losses and call it what it was."

His eyes flash angrily as soon as the word mistake leaves her lips. His jaw sets and he snorts derisively.

"God, am I _tired_ of being called a mistake," he sneers under his breath.

What? Who else called him a mistake?

"I'm curious," he says. This time at a volume she can hear more clearly. "What the hell do you think _it_ was?"

On the world 'it' he motions between the two of them and now she's the target of his impatient stare.

"A fun night, but a one time thing," she lies. She's determined to make him believe her. It'll be better for them both.

"A fun night?" He asks in disbelief. "That's all that was to you?"

"Well, isn't that all you want? _Fun_ and _light_, I believe you said." She knows she's being petty, but she's hurt and pissed. This is exactly what she's been afraid of this entire time, and now it's happening. "If we end things here and now, we can get passed this and maybe save our friendship eventually, but if we go any further being _casual_...I just don't know how that will work, Casey. _It can't_. We want different things."

"So, that's it?" He asks, irritably. "You've just decided this for the _both_ of us?"

She huffs and hastily begins changing clothes. He's already seen it all and there's no time for modesty now. Once her underwear and fishnets are on, she addresses him again. Her voice sounds more hopeless than she'd like.

"What do you want from me, Matt?"

She doesn't wait for him to answer before slipping her arms through the sleeves of her dress and tying it around her waist.

"For starters," he says in a voice that's thick with a quiet emotion she can't identify. Whatever it is, it hits her square in the chest.

When he takes a beat, she sits down on his bed and starts to pull on her boots. She can feel his eyes on her the entire time.

He clears his throat and starts again, this time in a firmer tone. "For starters, you can stop acting like I'm twiddling my thumbs, waiting for my ex-wife to walk back through the door."

She lets her watery gaze meet his resentful one as she picks up her purse and marches to the door. He's right behind her every step of the way. Upon reaching the door, she turns back to him as she opens it.

The finality of what's happening hits her and sorrow over what could have been causes her voice to break over her next words.

"Aren't you?" She asks, rhetorically. She already knows the answer.

His brows furrow together and his eyes mist over as if the heavy reality of the moment has just hit him too. But he doesn't say a word, and that seems like answer enough.

She nods and takes in a shaky breath to gain control of her tears. She will not cry. Not here. Not now.

"See you around, Casey," she calls over her shoulder as she _finally_ manages to walk away from him.

He hasn't quite won her whole heart yet, but somehow it still feels like it's breaking.

* * *

Mistake? She thinks last night was a _mistake_? Would there ever be a time where a woman didn't think of him as a mistake? He closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them he stares at the still open door. He had hoped to push the images of Sylvie's heartbroken face to the back of his mind, but that proves impossible.

He should shut the door or run after her..._something_.

But the thing is, he's not sure what he would say if he caught up to her.

To be honest, he's not sure she's entirely wrong about cutting their losses. Clearly, he fucked up. He's not even positive casual is what he wants! But he doesn't know if serious is what he wants either.

Failing at another serious relationship scares the shit out of him. One failed marriage, okay. That's fine. But two failed serious relationships in a row might shatter him completely. It was hard enough getting over the ways he and Gabby didn't show up for each other. He can't imagine ruining something so easy with Sylvie after _genuinely_ trying. So, in the moment, telling her he'd like to keep things light seemed safe.

He could do that. He could keep seeing her if there was no risk of failing in the future. He's a good friend. They are obviously capable of great sex. But he's not so sure he'd be such a wonderful boyfriend.

And on top of that, he has Cruz's warning from last night ringing in his ears. What if he's not meant to be the commitment guy even if he wants it? And what if he leads Sylvie on because of it? Cruz is right. She's not the kind of woman who should be second best. Sylvie deserves to be somebody's first priority.

Only he's not sure he can put her first without fucking it up. (Again.)

Something simple and uncomplicated like friends with benefits seemed less risky than the alternative.

Seemed being the key word. It definitely doesn't _feel_ less risky. Or easier. Or simple. It hurts like fucking hell. That's _none_ of those things.

He wants to keep spending time with Sylvie. She makes him the happiest he's been in a long time, but if he can't get his head on straight then maybe Sylvie's right.

Maybe they should call it.

"Um, hey, man," Severide says as he and Stella approach the open door. "Are we instituting an open door policy at home now too?"

"And was that Sylvie we saw catching an Uber outside?" Stella asks. "We tried to say hey but she blew right past us."

He groans and throws himself down on the couch. "I fucked up. And I mean seriously _fucked_ up."

Severide shuts the door while Stella sits down next to him on the couch with a tired sigh.

"What happened?"

"She asked me where I wanted things to go," he recalls reluctantly. "And I told her we should keep things _casual_."

Stella doesn't miss a beat. She slaps the back of his head as soon as the sentence ends. "You're a dumbass!"

"Ow!" He says as he touches the back of his head. "And you don't think I know that?"

"That is not what you want. Why would you _say_ that?" Stella scolds.

"How do you know that's not what I want?" He asks her.

Kelly scoffs and then snickers at him. "Casey, seriously? Have you _met_ you? You're Mr. Commitment. Always have been. Always will be."

"Yeah, well, commitment hasn't worked out for me so far, has it?" He snaps, dryly.

"So, what? You're gonna be _fuck buddies_ with Brett for the foreseeable future?" Kidd asks with an eyeroll. "What happens when she meets someone who wants more than that? Are you saying, after all the progress the two of you have made, that you'd be okay with it? You'd just let her go, no problem, to be in a committed relationship with someone else?"

"You really like the term fuck buddies, don't you?" Matt asks with an eyeroll.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I'd want her to be happy," he answers.

"That's a bullshit answer," Kelly says with a shake of his head. "What about you? You deserve to be happy too."

"Do I? The way I see it, I had my shot and I blew it," he says with a bitter chuckle.

"Oh my god, stop being a drama queen," Stella tells him. "Kelly and I both have a failed marriage under our belts and you don't see us punishing ourselves for it. Sometimes things just don't work out, Casey. That doesn't mean your shot at happiness is over."

"Besides, Sylvie is not Dawson. You can't act like she is. You have no idea how things with her might end, _if_ they end at all," Kelly argues. "For all you know, she could be the one that works out. _For good_ this time."

"And if she isn't?" He asks with a huff.

"Then you'll know for sure and you won't have to mope around on my couch talking about how you fucked it up before it ever got started," Severide adds. "Are you okay with her potentially being the one that got away? Really?"

No, he thinks. He isn't. The idea of Sylvie with anyone else after last night and then waking up with her this morning…

He hates it. He's internally seething with jealousy because he _knows_ he could make her happy. He's terrified to try it but he knows he could. They could be great together and it _might_ all work out, but he'll never know if he sits on his ass and gives up.

When has he ever been the type to back down from a fight? Even a fight against himself? Just as he thinks he's ready to rally, he remembers the hurt and anger on Sylvie's face and her implications that he's still not over Gabby. She sounded as if she'd already made her choice when it came to him.

"What if it's too late?" He asks them, worriedly. "What if she's already done with me?"

Stella smiles warmly at him and rubs his shoulder soothingly. "I seriously doubt that."

"Why?" He asks. "I'm not sure I'd give me another shot."

"Because if you're Mr. Commitment then Sylvie is Ms. Forgiveness," she tells him with a fond chuckle. "Just explain it to her. Be honest about what you're feeling and your doubts. She'll understand."

He's not so sure about that, but what choice does he have? Stella and Kelly are right. He has to _try_.


	7. Looking For You

**A/N: **This is it! The final chapter! I have truly been overwhelmed by the support for this story! Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and especially to those of you who left comments and reviews! Every comment and review meant the world to me! A special thank you to **katertots** for all her help! You've been a life saver, my friend! Thank you for even pushing me toward this ship to begin with!

Anyway, happy reading! Enjoy the conclusion!

angellwings

PS - it's late and once again I didn't do a final proofread! Sorry!

* * *

Part 7: Looking For You

* * *

"Love is looking for you.

I've been looking for you.

Baby, I've been looking,

I've been looking for you."

-"Love Is Looking For You" by Miranda Lambert

* * *

On the car ride over, her anger fades. It's replaced with humiliation and grief. Tears have been gathering in her lashes, just waiting for her to blink and let them fall. She blows through the front door, hurries passed Cruz and Chloe as they make breakfast and then slams her bedroom door behind her.

She doesn't hear her friends greet her good morning or ask her if she's okay. All she knows is she needs to be alone. She locks the door, presses her back against it, and then sinks down into the carpet.

She's so fucking stupid. Why didn't she see this coming? What signs did she miss? Finally, she blinks and the tears she's been withholding immediately fall. She pulls her knees to her chest, resting her head against them, and cries long and hard.

_Casual_? What the hell? He couldn't have mentioned that last night? Why all the hemming and hawing if all he wanted was a fuck buddy? Yes, she was stealing from Stella's vocabulary because that's what he described to her. Why all the build up to ask her out if he never wanted—

Oh, she wants to punch something. She's equally as pissed as she is devastated.

Her phone rings from her coat pocket. She glances at it briefly and scoffs at Matt's name. What is the point of him calling her? What's left to say?

She tosses the phone onto her bed so she can't see it from her spot on the floor and shifts from sitting to lying on her stomach. She sniffles and rests her head on her arms. Is it possible to forget the last twenty four hours ever happened?

There's a hesitant knock on her door and she sighs. She must have made quite the scene as she ran through the apartment.

"Sylvie?" Joe asks through the door. "Everything okay?"

"Fine," she lies. "Just tired."

"Okay," he replies. She can tell he doesn't believe her. "You hungry? I'm about to make some eggs."

All that does is remind her of the cozy breakfast she shared with Matt before it all went to hell. She furiously wipes away a tear before answering her roommate.

"No thanks. I already ate."

"Right, well...let me know if you need anything."

"Will do."

Joe sighs in frustration and then his footsteps retreat back toward the kitchen. She lets out a relieved breath and then crawls onto her bed. She hides her phone in her nightstand drawer and then burrows under the covers.

She has 24 hours before she has to face Matt again. She plans to hide for every single one of them.

Several hours later, she's forced to realize that plan won't work. _Forced_ because someone is banging on her bedroom door.

"Open up, partner!"

Foster? Sylvie asks herself with a slow sleepy blink. Where did she come from? Sylvie groans and rolls over. Maybe if she ignores her then she'll go away.

"Open the door or I'll have Joe break it down with his Slamigan. You know he's always looking for a reason to do a demonstration."

"She's not kidding. I'll do it," Joe chimes in. "It'll piss the landlord off and we'll probably get a fine, but if that's the only way…"

She rolls her eyes and huffs irritably. Her legs kick at the blankets until they're free allowing her to stomp across the room and yank open her door.

"What?" She snaps.

Emily's eyebrows rise as she takes her in. "You look like a grumpy racoon. Did you sleep in your make up? And where's your hairbrush, girl? Have you used it?"

"Do I appear to be in the mood for criticism?" Sylvie asks her with a dry look.

"No, definitely not. I see that now," Foster replies with a wince.

"What happened?" Joe asks. "You were gone all night with Casey and then suddenly you show back up—"

"Hold on," Foster says, cutting Joe off with a wave of her hand. She beams excitedly at Sylvie. "You were gone _all night_ with Casey? And _this_ is how I'm finding out about it? You should have texted me as soon as you left!"

"Don't get your hopes up," Sylvie tells her. "That's already over."

"The hell it is," Foster quips back with a determined glare. "I haven't been pushing you two together every chance I get for it to end after one date. What happened? Talk to us."

Joe's eyes narrow dangerously. "What did he do?"

"He didn't _do_ anything," she answers truthfully. She steps through the door and heads for the couch, resigning herself to this conversation. "We just want different things. That's all."

"Like what?" Emily asks in confusion. "You and the Captain seem to be pretty well matched. I can't imagine—"

"Casual," she blurts out. "He said he wants _casual_."

Chloe moves over from the kitchen as Joe and Foster react at once.

"Seriously?" Cruz asks in outrage while Emily laughs maniacally.

"I call bullshit," Emily says through her laughter. "_Matt Casey_ and _casual_ are two words that do not go together. Especially, when in reference to Sylvie Brett."

"Why didn't he just tell you that from the jump?" Cruz asks loudly. "Especially after the chat I had with him last night. I cannot believe him."

"Frankly, you shouldn't," Chloe adds. "I don't know the Captain that well but I'm with Foster. He's not the casual type."

"Then why would he say it?" Sylvie asks them. "No, I have to take him at his word. Besides, getting him to tell me what he wants shouldn't feel like pulling teeth. I'm not going to argue the idea with him anymore. I mean maybe...maybe he's still holding on to Gabby. There's no way I can compete with a _memory_."

"Have you considered that maybe his heads just all fucked up?" Foster asks her as she pulls Sylvie down to sit on the couch with her. "I mean his marriage fell apart pretty quickly from what I understand and there wasn't really any one thing to blame. That's gotta be a terrifying concept. You know? He worked his ass off and it still fell apart in the end. Who's to say it won't happen again? And worse, what if he thinks that _he_'s the problem? I don't know. I just think maybe there's more to it than even _he_ knows."

"Has he tried to call you?" Chloe asks.

She bites her bottom lip as she mulls over Emily's words. "Um, yeah, but I ignored it."

"Just the one time?"

"I don't know. I put the phone away in my nightstand. I didn't want to look at it," she replies.

Chloe walks away toward Sylvie's room, giving Joe a warning look when he tries to stop her.

"Just forget him, Sylvie. He should have been upfront with you from the beginning and I'm not sure how him possibly not knowing what he wants makes any of this better," Joe advises through a tense jaw. "Didn't you go through something messy like this with Antonio already?"

"Not exactly like this, no. That was messy in a totally different way, but you're right. Him not knowing what he wants doesn't make any of this better," she admits with a furrowed brow. "I thought I knew what this was with him and now...now I'm just completely confused."

"You need to see this," Chloe announces as she comes back into the room. She hands Sylvie her phone with a small hopeful smile. "He's called you three times in three hours and texted you twice."

She feels tears pricking her eyes again as she reads his texts.

"_I'm sorry. I fucked up. Can we talk?"_

Followed by another text half an hour later.

"_Please, just let me explain."_

He had a chance to explain this morning and she didn't like his explanation. Does she really want to hear it all over again? Then again, if she's honest with herself, she didn't give him much room to talk. She also made more than a few hurtful assumptions. Although, that doesn't mean her assumptions can't be true. Would it make anything better if he directly confirms everything she's afraid of?

"What do I do?" She quietly asks her friends. "I mean what's left to say and how can I trust it? Then again, I'm worried I wasn't very fair to him. I _might_ have overreacted."

"Might?" Foster asks with bemused grin.

"Fine, I definitely wasn't as open to an honest discussion as I should have been," Sylvie admits in embarrassment before her anger resurfaces. "But casual? I mean I wasn't expecting labels or forever but pursuing anything with him is high stakes! We work together and we're friends. I wouldn't have risked ruining that for _casual_. And now I don't know what to do."

"What do you _want_ to do?" Foster asks.

She breathes through frustrated tears and blows out a loud breath. "I don't—I don't know."

There's a knock at the door and Cruz leaves them to answer it.

"Maybe I can help," Chloe says as she sits down on the other side of Sylvie. She takes her hands and meets her eyes with an encouraging smile. "Do you remember when you took me out to lunch while I was in my head about Joe?"

Sylvie nods as she tries to figure out where this is going.

"We talked about that snapchat filter?" When Sylvie nods again, Chloe continues. "Well, when you look at Casey what do you see? Does he make you see floating hearts? _You're_ the one who reminded me that not everyone finds that. If you've found it then...give him a chance. What can it hurt to hear him out?"

She's still contemplating that when Cruz appears with a huge arrangement of flowers. Violets, orchids, and purple hydrangeas. He gives Sylvie a flat look and huffs tiredly.

"They're for you," he tells her. "There's a card."

He sets the flowers down on the coffee table and then hands her the small card.

The flowers are gorgeous and she immediate knows they're from Matt. Her fingers stall over the envelope opening. Chloe's words had already softened her heart and she knows what's on the card will finish her off. She could avoid it — tuck it away and pretend she never saw it.

But that feels unfair to Casey. Especially after walking out on him earlier.

She swallows thickly and opens the card.

"_Texts and phone calls aren't good enough. I fucked up, Sylvie. I'm very aware of that. Please, can we meet? I owe you an apology and an explanation. —Matt."_

Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she continues to hold tears at bay. His words seem sincere. The flowers are exactly what she would have chosen for herself. Despite her inner turmoil they make her want to smile. But what does that mean? What could have changed for him between this morning and now?

Emily scoffs as she reads over Sylvie's shoulder. "Yeah, huge ass bouquets of flowers delivered on a rush with a handwritten note are _not_ a trademark of the casual relationship. Trust me. I'm the _queen_ of casual."

Sylvie turns to look at Foster with conflicted tears still lingering in her eyes.

Emily gives her a warm smile and rubs her back in a gesture of assurance. "_Talk to him_. I have a feeling it'll be worth your while."

She hopes Emily is right, but even if it isn't she said a few things to him that she's beginning to regret. Maybe they were true, maybe they weren't. Regardless, she could have handled herself differently.

Matt isn't the only person who needs to apologize.

But first, she wants to hear his explanation. She feels like he duped her, and maybe it's horrible of her, but she wants an explanation for _that_ before she apologizes for anything.

* * *

"_Okay. Let's talk. When?"_

Relief washes over him the minute his eyes scan the words. He's not in the clear yet but it's a step in the right direction.

"_Now? Is that okay?"_

He holds his breath and watches the undulating dots at the bottom of the screen until a message appears.

"_Yes. Where?"_

"_You tell me. I'll go wherever's best for you."_

There's another heartstopping pause and for a moment he thinks she's changed her mind.

"_My place is best for me. Can you come over?"_

He grabs his wallet and his keys off the counter, pockets them, and replies as he walks out the door.

"_On my way."_

He passes Cruz, Chloe, and Foster on the sidewalk as he pulls up. Cruz glares at his truck while he parks. Matt fully expects a confrontation but Chloe manages to pull him away, further down the block. Foster gives him a quick wave and a brief stern glare. He gets the message. _Tread carefully_ _or suffer the consequences_.

He can hardly blame her for being protective. He was a dumbass this morning who took out his own issues on Brett. She didn't deserve that. He did _everything_ wrong.

He's the one who let Sylvie think she means less to him than she does. He should have taken the time he needed to think through his emotions before answering her question about where they might be going. He should know by this point in his life that knee jerk reactions rarely serve him well. When will he learn that and let it stick?

He takes a deep fortifying breath as he knocks on Sylvie's door. He knows this won't be easy and it's going to involve letting his well honed defenses drop. He needs to let Sylvie in on the mess in his head. She needs to know about the fear that's holding him back.

The door opens and Sylvie stands in front of him, but she doesn't motion him inside. The damp hair falling across her shoulders forces him to notice she's cleaned up since he saw her last. The green dress is gone in favor of leggings and a well worn sweatshirt. If possible, she looks _more_ tempting than she did last night.

She crosses her arms over her chest, hugging herself protectively.

He clears his throat to get him through the wave of longing and looks away from her to collect himself.

"Hi," he greets as he dares to look up at her again.

She chews the inside of her bottom lip and nods. "Hey. You, um—you wanted to talk?"

"Here?" He asks as he glances around the public hallway.

"Good a place as any, I think," she quips. "What is it you wanted to say?"

"I'm sorry," he declares. That's probably the best way to start. "I lied to you this morning. I...lied to _myself_ too, actually. I wasn't expecting the question and what came out was the chickenshit answer."

"Chickenshit?" She asks. "Meaning what exactly?"

He takes another deep breath and decides to just let the truth fly. If that doesn't save him then nothing will.

"This," he says as he motions between them. "_Terrifies_ me. It's good, Sylvie. But it's gotta be _too good_. Too good for me not to wreck it, you know?" He pointedly looks away from her and focuses on her bare feet and painted toe nails. Anything but her face. "And I can't watch another good thing fall apart. I don't think I'd survive that. I mean, I tell myself Gabby and I were both at fault in how things played out but what if—_shit_, what if I'm wrong and it was all me? I can't do that to you."

He still refuses to meet her eyes but he watches her shift her weight as she uncrosses her arms. He thinks she might reply but after another moment of silence he figures he was wrong and keeps barrelling through the things weighing on his mind.

"So, this morning I thought if we avoided all the complications then maybe...maybe you and me would _stay_ good. I thought I could avoid running it into the ground if we just never really _tried_. That's no excuse and it's lame as hell but...I didn't see you coming, Sylvie, and you spin me all around. I don't know. I'm—I'm a mess. My head is a big damn mess," he finishes with thick swallow and a sigh. "I'm sorry."

She leans against the doorframe and he looks up just enough to see her fingers idly playing with the frayed bottom hem of her sweatshirt.

"So, what is it that you want then, Casey?" She asks.

He reads nothing in her tone. It doesn't do anything to encourage him.

He smiles softly to himself as he finally looks up and meets her eyes. "I _want_ to say to hell with all of the shit I'm afraid of and do it anyway. I—I want to be with _you_. Not casually. Not while seeing other people. _Just you_. I don't want to sit around and wonder what we could have been. I _want_ to let it play out. You make me happier than I've been in a long time. I'd be an idiot to let that go without a fight."

There. That's it. That's the honest to god truth. It's humiliating and depressing and she probably won't buy it for a second but at least he can walk away knowing he gave it everything he had.

He feels her eyes on him for a lingering tension filled minute. When that minute ends, she steps back and pushes the door open wider.

"You should come in," she tells him with a blank expression.

He's not sure what's happening but inviting him in has to be a good sign. Otherwise, wouldn't she just slam the door in his face?

Once the door is closed behind him, she slaps his shoulder. _Hard_. He brings a hand up to the sore spot and stares at her in surprise.

"Why didn't you just _tell me that_ this morning?" She asks in an outraged voice. "Instead of blurting out the first answer that came to mind, you could have just said _that_."

"What?" He asks. He doesn't mean to sound confused but...that's exactly what he is.

"Did you think I wouldn't understand that? Or that I don't somehow feel like the grim reaper of romance?" She asks as her mouth ticks up in a dark grin. "Casey, I've ended two engagements in five years. Not to mention how things crashed and burned with Antonio. If anyone gets it, _it's me_."

He stares at her as her words sink in. He'd never thought about that before or considered that she might have similar struggles. He should have but—

Somehow it never occurred to him.

"I should have spilled my guts this morning. You're right," he tells her. "Honesty, probably would have worked out better."

She chuckles dryly and for the first time he notices the tearful shine to her eyes. "You think? Just because you _feel_ alone doesn't mean you are, Matt. I know this kinda happened fast but...it doesn't change the fact that you can talk to me. You can _always_ talk to me."

He nods and takes a step closer to her, risking breaking into her personal space. His eyes bore into hers and he knows his nerves are easily visible through them. "You can talk to me too, you know," he assures her.

"I know," she replies, almost as softly as a whisper. "And I should have this morning, instead of running away. Oh god, and some of the things I said to you! Matt, really, I'm so sorry. I was angry and hurt. I just felt totally blindsided by your answer. I had a lot of ideas on what you might say and that—that wasn't one of them. I wish I would have kept my head and stuck around. We might have had this talk sooner if I had."

"Sylvie," he tells her with a shake of his head. "I don't blame you for being upset. All the build up to that conversation had obviously been leading somewhere that wasn't casual. Had the roles been reversed—well, I don't know that I would have handled it any better."

Silence surrounds them. It's full of hopeful yet anxious tension. He's waiting for her. He bared his soul earlier and confessed everything he wanted, but she's yet to reciprocate. That fact worries him. He clears his throat and decides to address it directly. He needs to know.

"What about you?" He asks, hesitantly. Yes, he needs to know, but he's not sure her answer will be the one he wants. "What do _you_ want, Sylvie Brett?"

A smile slowly curves across her lips and a flush spreads over her cheeks. "You, Matt. I want _you_. Yes, okay, this morning was awful but I'd have to be heartless not to sympathize with how scary all of this can be. And aside from that, you came to me and apologized. You know what you want now, and as long as you know that, then I'm not afraid to keep trying with you. So," she says, pausing to take in a deep breath. "I want _you_. Just you. No one else."

"No one else, huh?" He asks with a pleased grin. "No more online dating or painfully awkward blind dates? Or trying to set me up with anyone you know?"

"I have hated online dating this entire time and that blind date turned out to be not so bad — thank you very much. And _no_ definitely no more setting you up with anyone I know," she retorts with a playful eyeroll. "Happy?"

"Extremely," he replies as his hand finds the back of her neck. "You?"

She shrugs and feigns a halfhearted response, but he can see her relief and joy reflecting in her eyes. "Eh. I guess you'll do."

He laughs and then uses his hand on her neck to swiftly pull her lips to his. She's laughing with him as their mouths meet for a quick succession of open mouthed kisses, but she's definitely not laughing by the time they finish. Her arms have gone around him, idly sliding up and down the plains of his back through his t-shirt. When she instinctively presses herself closer to him, the feeling of her chest against his is all he can think about.

She pushes away from him with a giddy grin and laces her fingers through his, pulling him toward her bedroom.

"Did you bring anything?" She asks him.

He knows exactly what she's talking about. There's no need to clarify. He smirks and nods, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. "I've got it covered." He pauses and then chuckles at himself. "Literally."

She stops walking as they reach her bedroom door which causes him to bump into her back. She turns with a dry glance and genuinely amused smile. "Really, Matt?"

"It was right there," he says with a shrug and a smile. "I had to pick it up."

She releases a short laugh and shakes her head at him. "God, you're a dork."

"Yet you seem to like me anyway," he reminds her.

Her good humored face turns heartfelt. She wraps her arms around his middle and then nods. "Yes, I do. I _really_ do."

"I _really _like you too," he responds with an easy smile.

Her hands drift around the front of him and down his abdomen until her fingers can curl around his belt loops.

She pulls him forward and then gestures toward her bedroom door with a nod. "Then what are you waiting for? Prove it to me, Captain Casey."

"You know, you can't just use my rank any time you want to get me hot and bothered," he tells her with a teasing grin. Although, she can. He knows she can because his blood is practically boiling in his veins as they speak.

"That's what you _want _me to believe, but I know better," she tells him as she walks backwards and uses her hold on his belt loops to drag her with him. "_Captain_."

He bites back a groan and then glares halfheartedly at her. "Not gonna work."

She feigns a careless shrug and releases his belt loops, but she can't suppress her grin. That grin totally contradicts her deadpan tone. "Oh, well, it was fun while it lasted. Here, let me walk you to the door."

He lunges for her as she tries to sidle past him and manages to grab her around the waist. "I'm not going anywhere."

When she nearly squirms out of his hold, he lifts her and tosses her over his shoulder as easily as if he were carrying a hose up a flight of stairs. Her laugh sounds more like a shriek of surprise and he lets himself memorize it. It sounded too rewarding to forget.

She lightly swats at his back while still laughing. "Jerk! Put me down."

"If you insist," he says as he walks them the rest of the way to her bedroom and tosses her onto her neatly made bed.

There's more shrill laughter as the bed bounces underneath her before she reaches up and grabs fistfuls of his shirt. A split second later she's using that shirt to yank him down and pull him onto the bed with her.

It doesn't take long for roughhousing to lead to heated kisses. The kisses lead to wandering hands and, before he really registers what's happening, his shirt and hers are on the floor. Sylvie keeps escalating things before his brain manages to catch up, but finally, when there's no more layers of clothing between them, the ability to be in the present with her returns.

"Tell me again how addressing you by your rank _won't_ get you into bed, Matt," Sylvie says with a wide gleeful grin while she straddles him. "I could use a good laugh."

His hands grip her hips and squeeze. "You calling my by rank is not how we end up here. You grabbed my shirt and mauled me like an animal. _That's_ how we got here."

"You really don't like to lose, do you?" She asks with a good humored scoff. "You'll even go so far as to lie to make it happen."

He laughs against her lips as she kisses him again. Joy and relief fill them both and what follows is a lot of passion and genuine _fun_. The pressure and awkwardness of the first couple of times is gone. They know more about each other than they did just a night before.

Later, when they're satisfied, exhausted, and tangled in her sheets, they realize neither of them have eaten anything since breakfast. Hours ago.

"You should stay," Sylvie offers as she tucks herself into his side. "We can order take out. Watch a movie or maybe just pretend to watch a movie and fool around. Whatever you want."

"Take out and option two," he answers with a smirk. "Definitely option two."

That's exactly what they do, on and off, for the rest of the night.

Fighting with Sylvie may have been gut wrenching, but making up with Sylvie? _That_ was exhilarating. When she's happy, _truly happy_, it overflows into every part of her and everything she does. Witnessing that brightness up close and personal is more than enough motivation for him to work a little harder at making her happy from here on out.

When their alarms go off in the morning, they're both still comfortably cuddled together. Based on two nights of sleeping next to her, he can already tell spooning is not Sylvie's way. She prefers to use him as a pillow — not that he minds. Her face is buried in his neck, she has one arm slung across his chest, the other is partially cushioning her head (in between his pillow and hers), and her legs are intertwined with his. She's a bit like an octopus with all her limbs firmly attached to some part of him. It should be uncomfortable, but surprisingly it isn't. This actually feels a lot more natural to him than spooning. He avoids choking on hair, for starters, and neither of his arms appear to be numb from lack of circulation.

Plus, waking up with Sylvie wrapped around him leaves a warm fondness floating in his chest that's been a much too rare occurrence in his life lately.

And _now_ he has a chance to feel like _this_ more often. No more hesitating over the two of them. He's completely in this and plans to pursue their potential to its fullest extent. Sure, he has no idea what that will ultimately look like, but it's a risk worth taking. He knows better than anyone that happiness like he's feeling now doesn't come around every day. He needs to stop being so afraid of losing it that he lets it slip through his fingers.

From now on, he's seizing every bit of brightness he can find. Starting with Sylvie Brett.

He reaches for his alarm and turns it off just as Sylvie wines and snuggles deeper into him.

"It can't be time to get up already."

"Afraid so," he replies with a groggy chuckle. "Shift starts in just over an hour."

Her alarm is still blaring so she reluctantly rolls away from him to stop it.

"Fine," she says with a resigned sigh. "I guess a shower would be nice."

He sits up and presses a quick kiss to the top of her head. "You go first. I'll see what I can do about breakfast."

"You are a very attractive and intelligent man," she says with a playful smirk as she watches him pull on his boxers and t-shirt. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Are you just saying that because I'm letting you use the hot water first _and_ making you breakfast?" He asks, knowingly.

"No," she says with exaggerated defiance, though the mirthful twinkle in her eyes says otherwise. "And I'm offended by the very suggestion."

"Right," he replies with a dry smirk. "Well in that case I apologize."

She swipes her sweatshirt off the floor and slips it over her head. It's long but still only _just_ covers her ass. It's not a bad view _at all_. His gaze follows her as she crosses the room, kisses his cheek, and then saunters off to the bathroom.

Getting used to this side of Sylvie is going to be fun. He can already tell.

He makes his way to the kitchen and starts breakfast. Eggs and bacon. In the middle of frying the bacon, Cruz walks through the front door.

His eyes narrow on Matt and he shakes his head with a scoff. Addressing what happened right _now_ is probably the best course of action. The last thing any of them need is for conflict to follow them to the firehouse.

"Cruz," Matt says with a nod of acknowledgement in his direction. "Can we talk?"

"We already did," Joe replies with a bored expression. "A couple of nights ago. And you ignored everything I said to you. I don't know what's going on with you and Sylvie _now_, and I don't care. Just don't jerk her around anymore. You got that?"

Matt sighs and nods. "Got it." There's a beat before he risks saying anything else. "I know it doesn't seem like it now, but I did listen to you. You're right. She doesn't deserve second best and I'm going to make sure she knows that from here on out. You have my word."

Joe quirks a brow at him with a stiff nod. "I'd better."

"Joe," Sylvie says brightly at she comes out of her room in her uniform, but with her hair in a towel. "You're back!"

"Yeah, just need to grab my bag and then I'll be out of your hair," he tells her with a forced smile.

"What's the rush?" Matt asks, still trying to soothe the tension. "Stay for breakfast."

"Oh, yes! You absolutely should!" Sylvie declares before turning away from Joe to address Matt. "I'll take over from here. Shower's free."

Matt nods as Sylvie takes his place at the stove. "Thanks."

He glances down at his phone as he starts to leave and sees a notification from the dating app on his lockscreen. A thought occurs to him and he stops mid stride to share it with Sylvie, and by default Cruz.

"You know what we should do?" He asks her.

She flips the bacon and then settles a curious expectant look on him. "What?"

"Deactivate our profiles," he says as he holds up his phone. "I don't need mine anymore." He pauses and takes in a nervous breath before continuing. "Do you?"

She smiles softly. He can tell that his idea touched her by the warmth in her stare. The nervous breath releases.

"No, I don't. Let's do it."

She pulls out her phone and, side by side, they navigate through the app until they find the option to deactivate. A few screens later, they both hit the final cancel button at the same time.

They share a lingering glance and he notices her eyes drift to his lips before she clears her throat and looks away from him.

"You should go get ready before I start something we don't have time to finish," she tells him as she reaches out and lightly shoves him toward her room. "Go."

He laughs and nods. "But save whatever idea you just had for later, when we _do_ have time."

"Noted and filed," Sylvie calls out as he turns to leave.

He smiles to himself while he walks toward the bathroom, and he decides mornings with Sylvie are his new favorite thing. Which really only means one thing.

He's going to have to make sure they happen _a lot_. His place or hers doesn't matter, as long as it's the two of them.

If someone had told him weeks ago that Sylvie's online dating idea would lead him _here_, he never would have believed them. He could never have predicted it.

Sometimes it's the unexpected events that end up being the most important.

And any choice that gives him another chance at happiness is a pretty damn important one. Choosing to go along with Sylvie's dating plan did just that.

He found another chance and there's no way in hell he's letting it go to waste.

* * *

"Really, Sylvie?" Joe asks as soon as Matt is out of earshot.

"Stop," Sylvie says with a stern glare as she retrieves the eggs from the fridge. "He explained and apologized. _Sincerely_."

"Yeah, I bet Antonio was sincere too."

"Cruz," Sylvie replies with a pained groan. "Yes, Antonio broke my heart and he wasn't ready. But that was a completely different situation. There were kids involved so, really, it probably turned out for the best. Not only that, but Matt _is not_ Antonio, and, last but certainly not least, I think you're forgetting that it's _my heart_ to risk not yours."

She cracks the eggs with more force than necessary and when Joe tries to speak again she talks over him.

"I appreciate the concern. I truly do. Your support yesterday meant everything to me. But now you need to trust that I understand the risks I'm taking," she tells him. She cracks the last egg and then reaches over to pat Joe's hand. "I got this. I don't really know how any of this will go with Casey, but no matter how it turns out...it's still a risk I have to take. I'd rather know for sure than always wonder. Does that make sense?"

Cruz lets out a deep sigh and then reluctantly nods. "Yeah, it does. I'm still worried but...if this is what you want then you're right. You should go for it."

She leans over and quickly kisses his cheek with a bright smile. "Thank you. Now, are you staying or going? Because if you're staying I'm making you some eggs."

"I'm going," he answers with a chuckle. "I don't really enjoy having a front row seat to the honeymoon phase. Especially, when it comes to my captain and my best friend. That's just awkward."

She rolls her eyes at him and laughs lightly. "Whatever. We're adorable and you know it."

"It's day _one_," he says with a teasing quirked brow. "Of course you're adorable. I'll see you at work."

"See ya," she calls to him as he heads to his room for his bag.

She's finishing the eggs and Joe is walking out the door as Matt emerges from her room. She eats quickly, leaves Matt a plate, and then hurries to dry her hair. She expects Matt to pop in and say goodbye at any moment but he doesn't. She finishes her hair and then goes to check on him. The dishes are done and he's leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone.

Her brow furrows. "You're still here?"

He looks up at her in amusement. "Seems like it."

She laughs and shakes her head at him. "No, I just mean...I didn't expect you to wait."

"Just thought since we're going the same direction, I'd give you a ride," he offers as he pockets his phone and takes several strides to meet her in the middle of the room. "Is that okay? I can go if you—"

"No!" She protests urgently before she can stop herself. An embarrassed blush covers her cheeks. She clears her throat and then studies the hair tie on her wrist while she collects herself. "What I meant was, a ride would be wonderful. Thank you."

She feels his affectionate smile before she manages to look at his face again. That smile is there waiting for her when she does.

"All set?" He asks.

She grabs her duffle from just inside her bedroom door and slings the strap over her shoulder before nodding. "All set."

When the door is locked behind them, he takes her hand and threads their fingers together. The ride is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Now that they both clearly know where they stand there's minimal awkwardness.

When the truck stops outside of the firehouse, Casey gives her a questioning look.

"I'm following your lead on this," he says. "How do you want to handle _them_?"

She knows exactly who _them_ is. She shrugs and grins dryly. "I feel like half already know what's happening and the other half suspect it anyway. So, maybe we just...don't say anything? Let it happen on it's own?"

He nods and smirks. "I can work with that."

They hold hands until the Firehouse comes into view and then they drop them, but they don't put any additional space between them. They share a small secretive smiles as they reach the apparatus floor and then part ways outside the bunkroom. Sylvie glances around to make sure the coast is clear before leaning up onto her toes to kiss him.

She intended it to be quick and chaste, but Matt has other ideas. His arms tighten around her and he deepens the kiss, letting it linger much longer than it should in a professional setting.

He pulls away with a satisfied grin as he observes her slightly dazed state.

"You okay over there, Brett?" He asks, smugly.

She blinks herself back to reality and then glares playfully at him. "That was completely unfair."

"Gotta get in one more kiss before the bells go off," he replies with a chuckle. "And if I recall correctly, you started it."

She may have started it but _he_ escalated it! She's about to open her mouth and point that out to him when Mouch comes strolling down the hall. He inadvertently reminds them to carry on with their day.

Brett continues into the locker room while Casey waves and then heads to his quarters. She puts her things away and then heads out into common area. She takes a seat between Kidd and Foster.

Foster immediately leans in with raised eyebrows.

"So, I haven't heard from you since yesterday. How'd it go?"

"Oh, well, we talked," Sylvie answers, unhelpfully.

"Uh huh, and since Casey didn't come back to the apartment last night, I'm going to assume it was a good talk?" Stella asks, hopefully.

"Casey didn't come home last night?" She asks with feigned cluelessness.

"Girl!" Foster says scoldingly. "Stop playing with us!" A few heads turn toward her and Emily ducks her head with a wince. When she speaks again she lowers her voice considerably. "_Spill_."

She can't help but smirk and blush in response. "It was definitely a good talk. We were honest about what we want and how we feel and...it may have ended with him staying over."

Stella and Emily fistbump under the table.

"Called it," Foster announces with pride. "So happy to be right."

Just then, Casey walks into the room and heads for the coffee maker — right next to the table where she and the girls are sitting.

Stella leans toward her and whispers, "I got you, Brett." Before standing and relocating to a seat next to Kelly at the long table on the other side of the room. Casey casually finishes preparing his coffee and then slips into Stella's empty seat.

"Brett," he greets with a nod and a barely visible grin.

"Casey," she replies as she pulls out her phone and tries to distract herself.

They still have roll call before the day actually starts but that's not for several more minutes. Hermann takes the last seat at the table, on the other side of Foster and then focuses a suspicious stare on Matt and Sylvie.

"Spit it out, Hermann," Matt says as he lifts his eyes from his coffee to give the Engine Lieutenant a pointed stare.

"How's it going with that online dating pact you two started?" He asks with narrowed eyes. "I haven't had an update on that in a couple of days. You know, since neither of you have popped into Molly's since last shift."

Had she really not been to Molly's in forty-eight hours? Oh god, she hadn't! No wonder Hermann is suspicious.

Matt gives her a look that she can tell means the answer is up to her. He's fine with however she prefers to handle it.

"Um, we...are actually not doing that anymore," she reveals slowly with a nervous bite to her bottom lip. "We deactivated our profiles today actually."

"Both of you?" Hermann asks.

"At the same time?" Mouch adds.

"Yes and also yes," Casey answers.

Gallo stops preparing flapjacks and turns to face them. "Hold on. Did you guys each meet someone at the same time?"

"Yes," Sylvie replies with a knowing grin.

"You met _each other_, didn't you?" Hermann asks as the corner of his mouth ticks up in half of a smile.

They really aren't fooling anyone, are they?

Sylvie feels heat flush her face, indicating a blush, and nods slightly.

Matt gives her an amused glance and lightly rubs a sympathetic hand across her back. He knows she's _shit_ at keeping secrets.

"I knew that weird online dating thing was a scam!" Hermann exclaims with a triumphant grin. He stands and repeats himself one more time just to make sure everyone knows. "I knew it!"

"Yeah, Hermann, you knew it," Sylvie agrees with a dry chuckle. "Congratulations."

Matt laughs quietly and shakes his head. "Never mind us. The two people who are actually dating each other."

He waves a hand at them dismissively. "Eh, you're a good fit. You'll be fine. Me, on the other hand, I need the win. Let me have this."

"He needs the win," Sylvie says with a playful eye roll as she leans toward Matt and speaks in a low tone. "We're the ones who've been on all these terrible dates with strangers. _We_ deserve the win."

"I'm pretty sure we already got the win, if last night was any indication," Matt says in a hushed voice, smirking sharply at her. "Also that kiss in the hallway a few minutes ago."

"True," she agrees with a coy smile. "Those both felt like pretty solid wins, and, as soon as roll call is over, I fully intend to retaliate for that unfair sneak attack of a kiss earlier. You will not get away with that."

"Looking forward to it," he replies with a wink. "That's the kind of retaliation I fully support."

She laughs and gives in to her instinct to lean into his body heat, just a little. "It was a bit risky initiating a full scale war like that in the Firehouse, don't you think?"

"Probably," he agrees. "But you know what they say?"

"No, what do _they_ say?" She asks with a teasing quirk of her brow.

"No risk, no reward," Matt answers with a cheeky grin. "There's a lot of possibility for reward that outweighs the risk if you ask me."

No risk, no reward. That's exactly what started all of this, isn't it? She thinks over his words and beams at him. She doesn't know what's going to happen in the end. It's all still a huge risk, but Matt's right.

The possibilities for rewards far outweighs the risks.

Their pasts don't determine their futures — no matter how messy. This risk may be the start of a future she never would have seen coming. It's a future they can decide..._together_.

Matt Casey is a risk worth taking. She's more convinced of that now than she was before, and nothing or no one will ever change her mind.


End file.
